Speaking Silence

The waters wend

their way around me,

Wrapping around my legs

with a ‘shhhhhh….


Snake and otter stand

on end,

Hood open and head cocked



Ancient echoes and memories

course through veins,

entering others uninvited



Old Ones come from the hills

with a gentle plea to

‘Speak, child…


The throat burns

yearning to know

the words to


This thing, these things that

the heart burns with

 a knowing I must know

somewhere these the words to answer


With something more than silent love,

to speak those things for which there may be no words

but they are waiting to be heard again.


1 view

© 2020 by Ingrid Oliphant