Tag Archives: VULNERABLE SILENCE

QUIET


In the quiet is when I hear myself
The steady beat of my heart 
the echo crackling pulse in my ear
The questions my skin asks of me
like... 
When will you rub cream on me?
Why haven't you let me feel the wind today?
I hear the Sun calling to me 
Will you take your face to greet him?

The quiet doesn't sneak up on me
She doesn't really do anything overt
Or show any change in her weather
She is simply define by a lack of noise
By the clarity of the air 
The ripening  freshness 
As green returns to the once Wintered land

Quiet doesn't claim any particular season
There isn't one element or another 
That she aligns herself with
There is no vitriol to her presence
No pressing want of need given or asked for
She doesn't make any demands of any kind
She simply is.

When all the busy, all the over achieving
All the doing, the placating, the perfecting
the absoluting, the info gathering, and chatter
Stops 
Quiet arrives in her not-very-fancy attire
She's really quite naked,  vulnerable
Unimpressive might be what some think
As she seems small and lacking in personality
With nothing at all to say.  Not a word
Not a thought, emptiness, a void

That's when I know she's here
In the stillness, the silence
Sitting next to me, in me
Quiet is the most tender part
of my heart, a deep well of waiting
Every answer I ever needed to know
arrives in her eternal presence.

copyright.  jeanne adwani






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Filed under MICHIGAN POET, NAPOWRIMO, national poetry month, Silence, YPSILANTI MICHIGAN

IN THE VULNERABLE SILENCE


2015-11-21 18.23.06-2

 

In the grey sky, tinged with morning pink
Vulnerable are the trees in silhouette
Naked against Winter’s austerity
Leafless against the bitter cold

Roots buried deep in the frozen earth
The life blood slowed in the quietude
Staunch in the willingness to wait
For the tilt of the Earth to call to Spring

Humans know none of this at their root
Such vulnerability to Winter’s quest
For silence and the slow beat of living
Wrapped in layers of cotton and wool

Skin is not like bark to a tree
No leaves for us to lose in wait to return
Nor does our root bury itself deep
No such attachment to one place

We are of stars and wander-lust
Held to gravity and ancient stories
Held to search for what settles our root
To this short stay on this blue marble

That for today, awakens to a grey sky
With a tinge of pink in sunrise
As this season of bitter cold cycles
in the reminder of vulnerable silence

by    jeanne adwani

~~~

Just riding 
by the cornfields
Seven crows 
sitting 
in a silver tree

by
A.M. Salt

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Filed under Uncategorized, VULNERABLE SILENCE, Winter poem, WINTER.