The sounds in silence

Walking through the shivering snow, they stop

in their tracks, turn back, at the sound of silent streams

down snow-dew cheeks.


When family gathered, regardless of strife,

to gather the white blanket of quiet, wide-eyed wonder that was you.

a part of us; you suddenly

cried with an open mouth and silence loud enough for all who knew.


When on savoured sixteenth, that youthful crush thought they could

match that rebellious glow in your eyes, your wild lopsided energy, your tumultuous laughter that

rumbled through your statement fashion, with bold words of theirs to take your hand

that day; but met were they with your angry misunderstood tears

that you shed somewhere   beyond their sight


When on that buzzing meadow, she looked at you

hands clasped tight with your growing juvenile love,

eyes tight with unshed brimming;

is it of joy, of missing her, of growing up, of starting something new?

you fill before you’ve even said your vows.

They always said you were a future child.


When between those tired layers of white-

washed plates of neglected food, he looked at you from the corner

of his eye, and noticed you let a stray salty drop dribble

down the side of your eyes to the pillows of the hospital home,

that you thought that nobody could see, behind

your weak smile and now tender limbs

which said the words you could no longer say.


When on that morn, and the snow drifted hard,

stilled all those who gathered to lament,

stilled their silent tears for all those that you never yet got to shed.


Oh! Do they turn back to bittersweet sounds of nostalgia.