When there are
no words
the eloquent quiet
speaks to a deeper thing
of
meaning within us,
where there is no hiding
from
that which forms the
core of us.
Buffeted like harvest scarecrows
by winds from every corner
in the open field.
Will you stand,
though you rot from the inside,
or will you be pecked apart
by scavengers
posing as pretty distractions,
making unlikely alliances?
When the colors
of the new moon
form your corona, aura, and nimbus,
aligning itself with a deeper darkness,
and your voice is your only
weapon,
Scream into the eloquent silence
and let it amplify
the beating of your heart.
