When there are
no words,
the eloquent quiet
speaks to a deeper space
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 be pecked apart
by scavengers
posing as pretty distractions,
making unlikely alliances?
When the colors
of the new moon
form your corona,
aligning with a deeper darkness,
and your voice is your only
weapon,
scream into the eloquent quiet
and let it amplify
the beating of your heart.
Beyond Panic 