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These Silences |
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written
by sunyuh / 10.02.2005 |
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| Silence and Belief |
1 of 1 |
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Assignment |
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It’s golden, not just at dawn. The pigeons are barely awake and moving. The cleaners are setting up equipment. The church is empty. The fountain is broken. Yet there are too many bodies. The air lifts and spreads the pressure of breath, the irregular tones that not even silence can hide. The presence that silence cannot erase. I look the other way. Away from the broken fountain full of water.
I think about them, and combine them into a her. She is faceless, but I want to touch her hand. Almost as if she is magic. The adult unicorn I have been searching for. I see her. Moving through the walls I feel her light feet floating inside. I face away from the fountain. Towards the walls and both hands on the stone I imagine her visualizing the same event. Her needing me just as much to exist.
This is my confession. I’m placing the letter in your hands, in the prayer basket and walking away. This is the only place I’ll return to.
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