Silence. The last thing I heard,
When they nailed the door shut.
Eerie but serene noise,
Like the sound you hear;
Between a note of a flute.
Echoes. My memory remembers,
All the things I mourn.
Resonating feelings,
Heightened emotions;
And an Endless fading hum.
Thud. All is shaken,
By its presence of awe.
Yes, silence could be heard,
Not in life or its boundaries;
But in the split second of death.
April 5,2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem