The Weight of Silence
Standing, with feet lodged in concrete,
at the edge of a precipice-
Syphon of air fallen away underneath
to broken boulders, rocks of words gone by
Not a moment left to lose
to catch the infernally fleeting
and flittering "why"
The palms of the hands, being greased with kindness,
are slippery flaps of butterfly wings
too weak to reach out and grab the elusive -
immovable feet and the trouble they bring
A torrential avalanche breaks above head
with spiraling white and pounds of emotion
stretching on tiptoes to flee the impending
shut in the mouth with an unending quiet
Standing, with feet lodged in proverbial
silence, of simply being too stiff or too tired to move
No words to save what was once found as priceless
packed under skyscraper pieces of moon
in rock, debris, snow turned glass white
and the infernally fleeting and flittering "why"
this precipice grants us to do or to die.
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006
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