---

Place your hand over mine.

Guide my sail

Into the wind.

Red turned funereal brown:

Desolate—

My true condition

The approach of the coming winter

Has forced me deeper inside.

Preserving and strengthening

A resolute silence

Not merely the absence of noise,

The silence formed a substance.

The silence truly spoke for me.

The silence did not seek

an answer

The silence did not seek

forgiveness...

The silence declared that

You are righteous...

and I a sinner.

Now that it’s quiet

I only miss the sounds

Of you