moves from crash to dissipation,
waiting in the space defined
by its detonation,
waiting to see where I'll find myself
once the sound has settled
I could go on, then, as if
my inner membranes had not arrested their normal breathing
as they reverberated.
I could make a big story about it,
a problem, a set of things
that need redress
Or I could let the silence become attuned,
let it deepen,
go with it to the primal order,
align with trees, and night, and stone,
and seek the sight of stars.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 26, 2023
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