TWO SIDES OF SILENCE
LINTON KWESI JOHNSON
to
us
who
were
of
necessary birth
for
the earth’s hard
and
thankless toil
silence
has no meaning
there
is never a feeling
of
tranquillity
or
mere quietness
never
a moment
of
soundless calm
from
within or without
our
troubled selves
how
can the clamour
of
sounds be stilled?
there
is no void where
noises
can collect
and
be made mute
how
indeed
can
there be silence
when
our hearts beat out
a
sonorous beat
meeting
the beating drums
of
an African past
when
our eyes shed
solid
tears of iron blood
that
falls on concrete ground
how
can there be calm
when
the storm is yet to come? This unending silence
taut,
impervious, unbending
not
lending an ear
to
the most delicate of sounds
awaits
the blast of bombs
which
man will explode
to
break this silent bond
to
use to create
hills
of soft obedience
where
sweet-clothed sounds
can
rebound
and
their echoes glide
like
a carefree bird
in
rhythmic calm
to
a mellow
pure,
silent space
These are ten poems I have had on my pin-board (and if I didn't have them on my pinboard, I should have)
I'd love to know the poems that you have needed at one time or another.
Directions
ReplyDeleteby Connie Wanek
First you'll come to the end of the freeway.
Then it's not so much north on Woodland Avenue
as it is a feeling that the pines are taller and weigh more,
and the road, you'll notice,
is older with faded lines and unmown shoulders.
You'll see a cemetery on your right
and another later on your left.
Sobered, drive on.
Drive on for miles
if the fields are full of hawkweed and daisies.
Sometimes a spotted horse
will gallop along the fence. Sometimes you'll see
a hawk circling, sometimes a vulture.
You'll cross the river many times
over smaller and smaller bridges.
You'll know when you're close;
people always say they have a sudden sensation
that the horizon, which was always far ahead,
is now directly behind them.
At this point you may want to park
and proceed on foot, or even
on your knees.
I love that one, Wayne
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