for that sheer lack of sound.
Your television blares
through the night
but I don't care.
You are here.
Even with the door shut,
the murmur of that sports
announcer spikes
in tune with my breath,
almost a comforting
sound.
For when you go out,
then I know silence.
 |
| We're working on writing in 1974 San Miguel de Allende, Mexico |
Lovely poem. I used to live in a house where the TV was on most of the night. I didn't get much sleep and I was very glad to not have to be there anymore. If I go to long with out having my kind of silence I get very cranky.
ReplyDeleteFeel this a lot. Those last two lines.
ReplyDeleteLovely, and I can definitely relate to this. There is something so profoundly reassuring about hearing others around us. I would even feel like this about people in adjacent apartments (when I lived in apartments).
ReplyDeleteOh, those closing lines are powerful.
ReplyDeleteOh I really felt that last line, set up as it was, so perfectly. I know that silence Beth. X
ReplyDeleteThank you all for visiting and commenting. I think there is a time in any relationship that we feel so close to the other person that we don't notice their actual presence until they are no longer 'there'. Sometimes that awareness comes when the other person steps out for an hour or two; other times, we must confront loss. My DH has faced some real health issues the last two year, so I feel that each day is to cherish. What else does poetry do but catch our deepest feelings? Well, we hope.
ReplyDeletePowerful is exactly what those last two lines are -- and meaningful for any of us who have known loss.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed your photo, especially because I have been to San Miguel de Allende a number of times. I'm returning in February for the big writers conference held there. It is a fantastic creative gathering. Are you ready for another trip back down there?
Thanks for your lovely poem. xoA
One of your best, Beth, and the picture frames it beautifully.
ReplyDeleteKaren