December 11, 2010


I don't like loud.
I like deep rivers in caves
so quiet that
the drip - drop of water
is all that interrupts
the silence.

But sometimes
I want the quick unthinking
car horns and crossing pedestrians,
the bustle of movement
and big thoughts blaring
out of speakers.

I make hasty glances
from side to side
and pressed by the crowd
I rush into the street.
Peddling my trash,
I'm part of the noise now.

But I can't hear a true thing
I know I need to leave.
So I trudge home
to the solitary studio
keep the lights turned off
and listen.


Michael said...

*nod* I know this feeling very well.

"And if I stop of a minute I think about things I really don't wanna know."

"Solitude . . . is the place of our salvation." (I find Henri Nouwen continually coming back to me.)