This is a time of silences. <br />Full moons frozen in the winter sky <br />of moths smashed on the candle flame <br />radiant leaves hung in the black waters <br />of trees preserved <br />in the morning mist <br /> <br />The time when the seeds whisper under the fallen leaves <br />of warmth and light and other worlds <br />and shine translucent shine in the evening light <br />a galaxy of celestial bodies <br /> <br />This is the silence of anticipation <br />before the fall <br />before the stone splits <br />the stick cracks <br />the silence of tides <br />before the seed splits its shell nudging blindly through the velvet darkness <br /> <br />The silent sound will strip you back to your soul <br />bleach you to your brittle bones <br />a roaring biting noise hard as bitter root <br />fingers through the arching ribs <br />to take the breath from your lungs <br />the ache as dull as a winter moor <br /> <br />This is the silence before <br />the movement upwards <br />to the warmth and light <br />the new time<br /><br />Anthony Dalby<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-time-of-silences/
