Monday, September 9, 2013

Silence Turned Up High


Smile. Words – the visual elixir to my silence. Today's reading brought about an emotional entourage, with a touch of too much reality thrown in like a pinball machine in an arcade TILT. In a good way, in a bad way, in a this-is-your-life waygentle memory shakers.  Silence, my two-fold blessing curse, even after all these years I still haven’t figured out which. The dichotomy? Curses can bless us in the strangest ways.

I see depths.

 photo 92311146lV2tZE3.jpg
(picture from here)

The branch sways in tender protest, as leaves tug autonomously, waving in the winds breakers. On a tree's topmost limb, deeper still, a tawny squirrel flag tics, tiny wind surfer with a branch for a board. With each breeze the twig vaults higher, small claws grasp for the elusive last pear of the season. A diminutive damp nose twitches with success. Below my feet squish in the sweet rot aroma of fallen discards.

3-D perception is a dance of silence in visual cadence. Would I choose this, to hear with words, to visualize the unspoken eloquence of movement against a soundless tapestry of thoughtperhaps? There are days I want to hear a mischievous squirrel’s bellyaching chitter as they rappel from one branch to another. I want to hear the sound crabapples or pears make with a suicide pact as they pinball against branches, to bounce against a wood fence and hard earth. More than anything, I would give it all up to hear the rain fall. Small visual etiquettes with a soundboard

I see depths, beyond sound in the deeper silence of the heart. My eyes turn up the volume. Everyone has at least one ‘what-if’.  Would this word espouser, see so clearly if I heard? Blessing or curse, does it matter in the long run.  To quote Anne Lamont, “The most subversive, revolutionary thing I could do was to show up for my own life and not be ashamed.” To show up and own who I am, as a person, as a writer, and let others hear the essence of my worded silence. Subversive, revolutionary.

No matter how many times, I question my deafness or find fault with the silence, my words smooth the jagged edges of a soundless life.  No curse finds beauty strewn among the broken places. I hear one word at a time in each indelicate perception within echoes of movement. So yes, I do show up for my life, in so many words. And I would be remiss if I didn’t share the brain fodder which espoused this bit of introverted prose:

EXPOSURE

Rain, you said, was silence turned up high.
It has been raining now for days.
Even when it stops
there is still the sound,
of rainwater labouring
to find some way into the ground.

We lie in grim embrace: these
two halves trying to be whole, straining
for this break in the static,
in the white noise
that was rain falling
all day and all through the sheeted night.

Silence is rain with the sound turned down,
And I stare out on a clear view
of something left out on the line:
a life, snagged there_
drenched, shrunken,
unrecognisably mine.
~Robin Robertson

Thanks to a dear friend Diana Matisz for introducing me to his work.  ~ Indigo



10 comments:

  1. I love this and I love that something I shared rang true for you. Much love x

    ReplyDelete
  2. I will now read this poet too, because of your stunning words set above him first, and then for the pictures I see in the poetry too.

    ReplyDelete
  3. You hear more with your soul than I do with my eyes. Thank you for this beautiful post.

    ReplyDelete
  4. a very cool poem to share...the silence turned up high...it would be hard for me to be in complete silence...i def like the chittering of the squirrels...and little bits of life...though i do see deeper as well at times...the patterns beyond that are not dependent on our limited senses...

    ReplyDelete
  5. I honestly don't know which I love more: the poem, or your words. You take us into your world of silence, and envelop us with the mixture of anguish and blessing found there. Brilliant, Indigo. As always.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Every time I come visit, I get so swept up in the beauty of your words. You have a true gift, my friend.

    ReplyDelete
  7. hello indigo, i wish you could hear the rain too, especially on a tin roof or steel barrel: it pings.

    you write deeplywith deep images. i have read at least some of this post three times, all of it tonight. what you share is universal, and yet i have a sense that as i get to know you, from your words, your words will be like diamonds and i will like you and that.

    love
    kj

    ReplyDelete
  8. As usual, Indigo, you put it in a way that no one else could possibly come close... such imagery... your talent always shines...

    Mik

    ReplyDelete
  9. "Silence is rain with the sound turned down" - perfect. Just absolutely perfect. What a great poem.

    Your writing is gorgeous as well, Indigo. I'm so blessed to be your blogger friend and read your lovely words. You will never be silent.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Curses can bless us in the strangest ways.
    Yes, I have been shown that many times.
    You are indeed a talented writer. I wonder if your words would speak so loudly if it were not for your silence. Indeed a curse can be a blessing

    ReplyDelete

Thank you for giving my silence a voice, my muse your words, and taking the time to discover my prose.