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The Sound of Silence

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As a child I would curve a seashell around my ear, 

delighting in how the sound of the world faded 

and was replaced with the rush of the ocean,

the thrill of holding powerful magic in my own two hands 

 

I would close my eyes and imagine a woman dancing on the shore,

draped with silks of blue-gray and green

cockle shells around her throat and seaweed twined in her hair,

bare feet painting patterns in the soft white foam

 

But then I learned the truth:

It is not the sea I hear, but the air

vibrating and echoing with ambient sound waves,

Nothing more than resonating frequencies 

 

My younger self was devastated – yet another 

piece of magic slipping out of her grasp

 

But now I’m not so sure.

For is it not a miracle,

that the sound of silence is not silent at all?

 

So now, I wander this world,

a seashell ever cupped to my ear 

searching for hidden resonance

 

The electric charge between lovers

The crackling calm before the fiercest storms

The bodies bowed down in prayer

The heavy pause before you speak

The low rumble of roots under the dark earth

The seductive chatter of flowers

The tears sliding down your face

 

And I listen 

as my cells dance and bow and cry and scream

along the shore.