CarrollBlog 8.15

SILENCE

by Stephen Dobyns

I am the music you were born to.

Then you put me aside, waiting your own;

like sticks scratching together, you wanted your own.

I am the song you will sing longest.

I am the clothing you were born in.

Then you changed me for bright red and blues;

like a clown or bridegroom you wanted everything perfect.

Death is a marriage; you will wear me to the wedding.

I am the house you were born in.

Then you left me and went traveling;

like a child without parents or for