In praise of silence

Katrina Kaye

It is easy to forget
the sound of one’s voice.

The peaceful practice
of silence and loss can add up to

forgetfulness and leave the mind to wonder
if anything is worth saying at all.

Consider the desire to end the silence;
to create clear and concrete language.

Do you dare
cause a ripple?

Practice  conversation, not just in mind,
but with tongue and air and the movement of lips.

And what relief, what glory, to speak,
to shatter silence with those well-chosen words.

But the more one speaks,
the more often one forgets what was said,

and there is always need for repetition depending
on who is around to hear.

Also, our message is so often lost,
what initiated that long ago lure of speech soon dissipates.

It is then a time to recall the peace of silence
and the ease of observer,

and once again, allow lips to seal and listen
to the mumbled murmur of the morning rain.

 

 

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Ghosts of California

Katrina Kaye

Curled in brown wicker,
I bask in the stories of dead men.

Sun drenched cowboys who have
long since stepped foot on a farm;
no longer able to ride a horse.

Their eyes reveal they have
put up with California for too long.

And now, as each of their ghosts lean
into the basket and poke at my red face,
they embed legends on childish palms:

say it is for luck,
say it is one of their rituals.

They don’t realize the calluses they create,
never suspect such power in stirring
the clouded skies of a child.

The other morning,

Katrina Kaye

the lilac in the front yard was filled with tiny birds.

Their first feathers still poofing under new coats;
all chirp and chatter in the excitement of learning to fly.

I watched them and their hurry; the exhilaration
of the new. What a lovely song.

There is no point to this story,
other than it made me momentarily happy.

The idea of capture and keepsake never crossed my mind.
There was no lust for ownership or some distortion of permanence.

No, this was just a twinkle;

a lost minute,

slip of seconds,

a glorious moment,

that ended quickly and forever.

 

 

“The other morning,” is previously published by Cajun Mutt Press (2024) and Kelp Journal (2024).