Anonymous
I have felt a silence that I cannot expect you to understand.
It is a silence that I can only compare to a memory recently caught,
Like fly in amber,
Like sunspots in an eye.
The memory takes place in a sort of cavern,
Not one where the walls constrict the body,
Nor one where it makes it feel insignificant.
Thousands of feet underground,
Where the rock does not form lakes,
Nor crack under duress.
This silence is like a second skin,
One that is completely wreathed in blindness and deafness.
One that makes feet feel numb and nonexistent.
This silence nestles in the soul,
Dampening every emotion to the point of
Feeling cautious and curious,
Fearful and fearless,
Downtrodden and uplifted.
I have felt a silence that I cannot expect you to understand,
But listen and see to.
This silence in all its forms will touch people around the world,
To every man and woman,
To every elder and child.
This silence won’t harbor in some,
But will sink its teeth into others.
It rides upon my back like a shadow,
A memory that cannot be recalled,
A story told and untold.
I have felt a silence that I cannot expect you to understand,
I expect you to understand the grief that it has become.
The event of silence is the five stages of grief multiplied and divided and collected
Into a single key to a door hidden in a maze of the mind.
The first stage of denial is the wood and the lock
Shrouded in self excuse and disbelief.
This silence was created to forget trauma unhealed.
If you can see this shroud,
This grief,
This silence,
You do not wander the caverns alone.
Individuality is what separates us and binds us.
Though we are blind and deaf to the world,
Trust that we stand together in the same hall,
For you have felt a silence only you can understand.