I have swung my silence
the way an artist streaks red
across a sunset canvas
If you listened you would hear
my fire crackling one last time 
before subsiding in acceptance
of the night

I have cupped my silence 
between my palms
and let it sink into my soul
knowing that it is a pearl
that is best left closed
until discerned
by the one who will dive 
looking for its glow

I have let my silence steal
the thunder from a tirade
like the breeze 
that quietly untangles
a frown
into the steady shimmer of a lake

I have rendered my silence
like it was poetry
the warp and weft of thoughts 
and words, well placed
unspooling itself
to the flow of thread
that weaves a lot more
than what can be said

I have wielded my silence
like they have wielded words
Those who will listen

would have heard
Those who will not
are still waiting
for me to talk
Or not