Original Haibun
But For Filled Silence

Bouquets of words given so easily and with little thought for every occasion.
Countless petals once numbered to predict whether a love was promising now fall to the ground without benefit of count, left to be thoughtlessly trodden under foot.The power of language leaks out a little more each day and soon it will no longer be able to get us where we want or need to go.
Words will become things thrown about due to habit formed where once they held meaning. Now meaningless, nothing but sounds that bump together accidentally, heads nodding while minds are elsewhere, words diluted, disintegrated, dissolved, dispersed.
where once meaning stood we stand alone with others words hemorrhage bleed out
Not even language can escape inflation, the currency requiring hundreds or thousands of spoken units to equal a single simple message. Empathy dies bit by bit for what is experienced but can’t be communicated has no purpose. First, non verbal finds its place but then it too falls away, fades, vanishes. Now powerless and lonely, words are no longer so much remembered as believed to be urban myth.
facial gymnastics bodily gyrations rule vocal pause resounds
We must now begin again, learning to value true connection, learning to value each other.

If you enjoyed reading this poem, you might also like these:
You can find links to my other work on Medium and follow me here. Thanks for reading!






