And New Year follows Christmas, with a long silence between.  I’m away now until New Year’s Day, and so here is a couple of silences to fill the gap.

Transfiguration

by

Jack Hirschman

 

I am peasant

next to your language

because I am not

a peasant, simple

next to your love

because I wound it,

dumb next to your voice

because you are my lips

and leave me speechless,

leave me also loneliness,

hurt me

with the inexpressible,

and because you

live the way you do

and I cannot,

I must go elsewhere

in this corner of

my shoulder and weep you,

who love me inexhaustibly

more than I can ever hope

to silence with a poem,

because it is the silence

I hope for, because

it is the very pure

silence hope itself is,

and so I bend, to

my pencil I say: you,

to the beautiful page, you,

I say Yes without speaking,

I say many things, and still

there is room, there is space,

your face is where I see forever.

***

Silence, 2

by

Stefan Brecht

By noon, the bestial roar of surplus-driven labor,

concrete of traffic and construction, a furious torrent, blankets even

the quiet residential suburbs with a sheen of clamor,

a set of agitation,

so that in all the city silence is but a lesser noise.

And tho the sea of sound subsides, its composition shifting,

the shouts of children piercing

the detonations of combustion,

the even tenor of a million conversations

rising to the sky,

as in a gasping exhalation later

the roar subsides into a growl, the growl into a nightime sigh,

the inner city’s raucous breathing never stops,

for when in early morning hours

the city’s lungs are almost empty and like a fog a silence threatens

the scanty footfalls and the conversations

of late pedestrians, the early trucks begin to rumble

& in a murm’ring trickle, the floods of clerks and laborers again begins to rise,

This breath of life, the higher potency of birdcry

& of the sound of wind & of domestic conversation

is my space of silence,

and with this breath breathe I.

enjoy-the-silence

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