Loudness of Silence

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
What my mother taught me.

Submitted: April 30, 2017

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Submitted: April 30, 2017

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As a child, I feared thunder.

I was startled, by the unpredictable, the unanticipated, the unexpected.

So, we played a game,

We convinced ourselves that we knew when the next one would hit.

One Mississippi, Two Mississippis, Three Mississippis, Four

 

Clang!

You would look at me and smile,

“The storm is close!”

The sky darkened.

You closed your eyes, as you inhaled the smell of the fresh rain.

Under the porch,

protected,

we measured the distance it had traveled.

One Mississippi, Two Mississippis, Three

 

Clang!

I would inch closer to the wall.

You would invite me closer to the railing.

I was petrified.

One Mississippi, Two

 

Clang!

I used to be petrified.

 

But, when I looked at you as the storm raged,

as the thunder roared,

as the clouds ripped.

How could I ever fear thunder when your presence wrapped around me?

When your existence felt louder than the storm itself.

I know now why you like the storms so much.

Like me, you must have had someone to tell you that loudness does not warrant importance,

not when silence speaks stronger.

Do you think of them, as I think of you when a storm rages?

Now, when I listen to thunder,

 I listen to the silences between the clashes.

Silently deducting how close the storm is.

I let the strength of stillness overpower me as I silently thank you. 


© Copyright 2017 Corine Pelletier. All rights reserved.

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