Honestly….. silence does speak

The Harrowed Heart

Who was Rumi without words, or
Picasso without paint?
How do angels fly
with torn and tattered wings?

What medium exists
to express such bitter angst
when silence comes to visit
the worn and weary heart?

Perhaps my crafted art
finds its true expression
in the still point
of the raging storm.

I face the howling winds
whose raindrops are my own
and clutch my dried up pen
in true but trembling hands.

©Benjamin Hoshour, 2012


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