A Sinking Silence

Picture credited to ME

 
At times I wonder
if she will feel me here one day
or notice the faded initials carved
into the break wall—

provided the weather
remained kind, and time found
its proper footing to move forward.
I'd imagine her atop the grassy hill

searching for privacy like
I had done, and find me there,
sinking crooked into the sand
mindful of a voice within the silence.

Saint Augustine in Silence

We stand meek; the unguided
successors of the Earth—vagabonds,
pinballing our way in the urban afterbirth
of a misappropriated dichotomy.

Detchached from body, we suffocate
and sacrifice, self pitying martyrs who
claim the scars of Christ—our voice
inhailed from the breath of broken souls.

Somewhere Augustine is laughing
while we climb hand over hand to the peak
of mountains waving our arms
toward the heavens.

Wobbling on a precipice with no response,
we fall to our knees - break bread with strangers,
and witness our neighbors become arbiters.
Our perspective is fresh—silent, and jaded.