After the Silence

141 days tiptoed past my shuttered window

undetected

their spun cotton gait a mirror of my reticence

 

When darkness pressed, worry devoured my muse

relentless

words withered off each fingertip, scattered petals

 

3,384 silent hours slid, sleek and stealthy

unrecorded

formless and void without frame of language

 

When the churning tides of this scribe’s mind became

unavigable

I washed up against the writer’s concrete block wall

 

203,040 minutes spun out empty as gossamer

fruitless

in the cavernous vacuum of my pen at rest

 

Until I remembered. I reached, unfurling sluggish fingers

Straining

Groping for each reluctant word, as hen gathers brood

 

And found a poem.

 

 

#NaPoWriMo2018
Image Credit: Image by Steve A Johnson on Pixabay, CC0, https://pixabay.com/en/garbage-trash-litter-recycling-3259455/
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