The Silence
I remember a Silence, once,
When the guns ceased to roar…
But, alas, that silence had
nothing to do with the
ending of a war.
It was but a brief cease fire,
a traditional holiday truce,
while we sang Ancient Songs
of Peace…
and decorated a spruce.
The next day, the guns were
back in full- throated thunder;
the peace celebrating a Sacred
Birth was forgotten - ripped
asunder.
No more blessed Silence, Old Son,
no more gentle talk of love. Death
stalked gleefully on every side, and
swooped down from above.
You know it “don’t mean nuthin”
My Man, so saddle up and be brave…
The only Silence that lasts long here
is the Silence of the Grave.
© Thurman P. Woodfork
9/14/2007
