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I Am The Silence

I am the silence
That weaves its way through the blackened sentinels
And binds them together in a tapestry of emptiness.
I am silence, the absence of sound
That creates a roar more frightening than what has passed before.
For in the void that I bring forth,
All feelings leap and buck against their constraints,
Like molecules unleashed in a vacuum,
And threaten to carry you to the brink of insanity.
I am the silence where human demons wander,
Awaiting the open heart in which to enter and carve
Their unspeakable thoughts with burning fingers.
I am the silence, that follows the deafening storm,
The wake of the raging tempest, where life lays down its arms,
And ceases to exist.

I am the silence, and the trees bow down before me,
Charred and broken like agonized sculptures
That scratch and claw at the unforgiving sky,
Yet even the clouds look the other way.
I am the silence, even flies do not buzz in this graveyard
For they have gone to their own.
Nor do birds sing, for their songs have been consumed
By a greater orchestra, and voiceless,
They have flown into oblivion.
I am the silence and carry no wings, and no song
But the dying wind that moans and sighs in the empty spaces
Between reality and dreamtime.
I am the silence that dances only in the whisps of smoke,
Like remembered fantasies or the writhing passage
Of lost souls.

I am the silence, and to my East
I hold the desperate claw of a lone kangaroo
As it pleads to a natural enemy for relief,
With eyes that shift to another place and time
Where torment cannot follow.

I am the silence, and to my West
The blackened bundles tell a tale
Of life melted away and a herd gone home
To a place where fences never were
And the screams are far behind.

I am the silence, and to my North
A freakish form wanders in circles
Melted beyond recognition, yet somehow living,
Death, its friend, just a little out of reach,
As pain subsides in delerium.

I am the silence, and to my south
An anonymous and blackened baby cries
For its charred mother, yet wondering
What hell it was birthed into
Or if it has been born at all.

I am the silence, the eulogy of a landscape
Black and dying,
That awaits the kiss of rain far more
Than a nation’s tears.
I am the silence, the sound of pain
Drawing the curtains on reason;
As resolution shudders from another empty vessel,
Offering no goodbyes nor answers,
Just a tortured mask to greet those
Who arrive too late.
I am the silence and I carry the echoes
Of footsteps falling
Where angels fear to tread.
I am the silence that fills a mind so horror cannot lodge
Where screams are soundless and realization
Ducks and dodges beyond the realm
Of human comprehension.

I am the silence, the sound of unspeakable horror,
The deepest suffering, the sighs of endings,
I am the silence, the voice of those who have gone before
And the words left unsaid.
I am the silence, the sound of tears flowing endlessly,
The steady tramp of countless blistered feet
Making their way home.
I am the silence, the voice of the little ones
Who did not speak your language
And whose cries you did not hear.

I am the silence, and I ripple with all that is and will be.
Within me moves your potential,
And your understanding, like a veil that dances lightly
To let the souls of all time by pass.
I am the silence, the sound of hope breathing in and out,
The sweet rise and fall of love at work,
Of hands and hearts in unison.
I am the silence, and in my presence
You will find the enduring song of healing
As it slowly returns from exile,
And you will know my touch, for I am reverence,
And honour the living.
I am the silence, and as I swell to fill the void,
You will know my name, and remember me,
For I am compassion and I will never die.

I Am The Silence

Wendy  Slee

Yoongarillup, Australia

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 78

Artist's Description

Picture walking through the fire devastated land…..
there is nothing….
Nothing left alive…..
How would it feel…..to be there alone….
and where would your thoughts take you…?

This is for the creatures of the land, the birds, bugs and wildlife and the domestic animals, that have suffered so much in silence…..and suffer still….
I speak for them, from the heart of their silence…….
for
If you must cry “God help them”, or ask where God is in all of this, or pray to God to do something, then try standing in front of a mirror, look yourself in the eye and repeat your cries, but replace the name of God with your own….

Artwork Comments

  • Caroline Gorka
  • Wendy  Slee
  • lianne
  • Wendy  Slee
  • helene
  • Wendy  Slee
  • wildlife-appeal
  • Wendy  Slee
  • Enivea
  • Wendy  Slee
  • Matt Penfold
  • Wendy  Slee
  • cougarfan
  • Wendy  Slee
  • linskudd
  • Wendy  Slee
  • linaji
  • Wendy  Slee
  • Astoreth
  • Wendy  Slee
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