Posted on by Allison Marie Conway

Static and Silence

Coffee in hand, I head to the window and stare clear into the dead blue heart of winter frost. I think of breaking free of everything which strangles my bones and I can taste the cold of the wet streets on my tongue. Solitude. The exquisite mercy of it. The massive crows in the yard have been shouting at each other all morning. I’d like to scream myself but I haven’t the energy and the house is so quiet in its carefully laid peace. Like a teetering tower of fine porcelain cups and saucers stacked high into the dusty domesticated air. Like a terrible secret whispered against blank halls. Something in the way the light moves shadows across the floors sends shivers down my spine. I have been a shadow, fixed and immobile, for so long now. Woman of shadow, creature of splintered complicated light. Swallowed my dead blue heart into my stomach like a stone. I imagine a touch which never materializes. A slow coaxing stroke at the throat which would cause my mouth to move so I could speak what is killing me. And then they would finally know the truth, that there is a sadness which never leaves. That even the shadows mourn.

20 Replies to “Static and Silence”

  3. Ohhh… The world that you paint with delicately selected words when there’s a cup of coffee in your hand is both devastating and mesmerizing at the same time. Shadows come alive and battle for the best position from which they can peak at my screen as I read and reread each letter, word, sentence… and feel them all as they are engraved within my mind and my soul for they so eerily and beautifully describe the state of the world I’ve lived, I live, and will live in the days, weeks, and years to come. It’s terrifying how amazing you are. Your mind. Your gift. Truly. ❤️❤️❤️

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      1. I feel the same. Your mind, your words, they pulsate with energy that enchants. Take breath away. At the same time reanimate. Wondrous soul. Transfixing being. Wilderness. You. Much love. Always. ❤️❤️❤️

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  4. I have been so fortunate, I know, despite this physical distance, to have journeyed with your words, mo anam charaid. Sometimes this journey takes me to places that I was not expecting, and yet would never never regret having been. I have told you, the brilliant, sometimes bitter reality of this journey–your words–can make me more than pause, but stop. And listen. Expecting to hear more. Fearful to do so perhaps, yet needing to. Needing that voice, your voice, which is exquisite. But this–these words today when I am so very far away from those I love, further than ever before and unable beyond mere words to reach out and touch you and offer you any warmth that this distant adoring friend of yours can offer. To share a glass and seek a fluid gentle coloring through the dust, perhaps even find a way to resolve two splinters into a peace that transcends the eternal aching. Your words have left me in tears. Yet still wanting more.

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    1. Your words reach out and touch more than you may know, my dear poet. Please, if nothing else, trust that. To know you are here. That is what glows in my darkness and turns my stone to blood. Peace and love I send to you, gorgeous Christmas angel. ❤️🎄🕊

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