the silence is not empty
just foreign
for someone practiced in performing…
in a frantic self where
the words,
a flood held back.the dam breaks
so grateful for an ear
they tumble out
and strike a Rock,
to settle in the pond
to wait.
the silence is not empty
just foreign
for someone practiced in performing…
in a frantic self where
the words,
a flood held back.the dam breaks
so grateful for an ear
they tumble out
and strike a Rock,
to settle in the pond
to wait.
beautifully penned, Mary🌹
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Thank you, Nancy.
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Especially love the first two lines.
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Thank you.
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