Peace

This must be a Holy night So Still. So silent. Only the internal: Tinnitus between the ears louder than any outside sound Creaking of 3rd and 4th fingers as they practice arpeggios into the ether Thoughts that thunder along with the storms in my stomach Wild horses cantering along a far north beach As strong as the Pacific Ocean This night has no neighbours Disputes or shoes on hardwood floors No babies cry or dog’s bark No hothouse flower boy racer porch-parties in the Grammar Zone gated community next door Even the nearby motorway sounds lonely It’s an aural meditation A gift to those who listen instead of sleep No late night dash to the 24 hour pharmacy or A & E No panic attack taxi trip across town to find comfort in rejection Swim in its silence. Feel the depth of it press against my skin drinking it naked in bed like a guilty pleasure The blissful satiation of an addict’s first split-second surrender Empty palette, Blank canvass Empty page, Blank tape Nothing to be woven on this threadless loom Nothing to prove or disprove in its clean-slate neutrality 1:01 then 1:02 Time walks slowly after midnight feeling it’s way down sightless corridors sensing any obstruction with its eager ears Such small steps compared to the wide Midday strides on either side of darkness I have a love growing inside me Nascent and unformed All it knows is that it wants to be A long gestation An egg that needs constant temperature, constant vigilance, constant care She is fragile Turtle hatchling vulnerable Prey of the element’s butchery The great clobbering machine of doubt All questions cease in this Silence’ Peace Caitlin Smith, 6th August 2006