Untitled Katarina Dvornik People are afraid of quiet. The silence when nobody Knows quite what to say That sends shivers up your spine. But silence- Real silence, When you’re not filling up the darkness With blathering words, When you let the nothingness consume you— Holds a certain warmth inside you, A dark, calm, warmth, A dull fire. Silence is a subtle balance, That creeps up Like an intricate feathery vine So that you don’t even notice Until everything has changed. Like a veil behind you, Touching you with a gentle softness And pushing with unseen fingers The thin skin Of toughness and puffed up chests, The real darkness Of hatred and crushing fingers That shrivel a soft silence. |