A Quiet World

She
Sits in
Silence
Of a melting 
Burning, solstice strain
As daggers of time pierce
The fortitude of her wounds
Tainting the purity of her
Coherent thoughts, she sews her bruises
With the sharp edge of poetic pressure.

She 
Cannot 
Speak of hurt
That runs too deep
To articulate
Is easy face to face
Strength of words guides the lonely
To ink pages with threads of breath
Like the sweet comfort of long lost dreams
The certainity of an absolute love.


# Etheree poem.

Von Smith’s spontaneous response to my Etheree

A Silent End

He 
Stands by
Listens
For the first sounds
Through winter's darkness
Thinking of spring to come
No longer feeling hope for now
In scars of yesterday's failed dreams
Though they bulge on his face flaming red
He closes his eyes to the memories.

He 
Freezes
His impulse
His first instinct
To cry out in pain
For all others to see
When his inner dark chanting
Leaves no trace of his cold sad path
No tragic footprints they can follow
To the edge of the cliff at his heart's end.