She, Father: Part One

Who will listen when I speak?

Saline streams of a sensitive saying

Through the salt, I’ll listen,

Sweetness, when you speak

Stopped ears still open in silence

Set my state still accepting sentence

Sent hence

To echo, reverberate—still

Resound and resonate—swords down

And restate.

The tomb, my self from yesterday

Is the castle with seven six-sided

Swans standing guard just for me

Stiff not feeling a word but

Swift to deliver when it does, just for me

Two eyes to see and two more, just for me

Two mouths to hear, we feed one another

My ears record your calls

A young one filled with tears says

I’ll listen when you speak

My eras remain open in the silence

Ready for your words

To echo, reverberate

Ricochet off the walls of

The tomb my yesterday’s self

Sat not feeling a word

In a vacuum even

I can.

Two eyes to see

And two mouths to feel

My ears record your calls

The brain still suspended in a sacred place

Sifting through thousands of signals

But still goes silent when your soft songs

Spread seamlessly still seemingly I’m seeking

Something. I’ve since found your voice

In the silence it is,

A verse from the new me.