on Earth
is muteness,
am I spoiling it
by telling you?
And does speaking
of silence
compel me
to destroy it? If so,
This must
be hell: where
the only way
to tell
of our feelings
is to leave them—
to recoil—to move
away completely.
But maybe,
such a sacrifice
is the key
to this cell;
after all,
even the smallest
of motions
might be replete
with significance,
if heaven's
lingua franca
isn't silence—
but stillness.