amarobro
Proverbs 20:5
track October 12th, 2003
Silence. It's so loud in your ears that you're deafened by it, and you can't tell.
I'm running. Seven other girls arranged on their own paths, beside the one I've been placed upon. I can feel the tension in me, the heart that tries to leap from my chest, the air drawn in with so much force - a storm in my throat. I see their mouths moving, the girl who drops her nachos, the kid toying with the football, the parents and other teams standing, praising us, making demands of us that we would demand of them. We see, but we do not hear. We feel, but we do not hear. We are deafened by silence. Distantly we feel the surface beneath us, distantly do we feel our pain, but silence rushes by us, around us, letting nothing touch us. Our race is virtual reality on mute.
I fall, and crash, sliding and burning to a stop after the finish line. Second in my heat isn't enough to place, but neither the pain nor the award concern me. I can hear again. With the friction bringing me to a stop, or perhaps as early as the loss of control, I dropped out of the dream. Now shock of feeling air rush back into my lungs, feeling my heart again, hearing all that's going on, really seeing anything that isn't a white line, blocks out the pain of bits of rubber gravel embedded in my knees, my hand, my arm. I'll be smudged for the rest of the day, but the world is real again.
Silence deafens you. You can hear silence. Does silence occur when sound leaves, or does it force sound away?
But if it's something you can hear, it's something you can feel. And thus, something you can dance to, play the accompaniment to, harmonize with.
I think I should like to see the score for silence.
Silence. It's so loud in your ears that you're deafened by it, and you can't tell.
I'm running. Seven other girls arranged on their own paths, beside the one I've been placed upon. I can feel the tension in me, the heart that tries to leap from my chest, the air drawn in with so much force - a storm in my throat. I see their mouths moving, the girl who drops her nachos, the kid toying with the football, the parents and other teams standing, praising us, making demands of us that we would demand of them. We see, but we do not hear. We feel, but we do not hear. We are deafened by silence. Distantly we feel the surface beneath us, distantly do we feel our pain, but silence rushes by us, around us, letting nothing touch us. Our race is virtual reality on mute.
I fall, and crash, sliding and burning to a stop after the finish line. Second in my heat isn't enough to place, but neither the pain nor the award concern me. I can hear again. With the friction bringing me to a stop, or perhaps as early as the loss of control, I dropped out of the dream. Now shock of feeling air rush back into my lungs, feeling my heart again, hearing all that's going on, really seeing anything that isn't a white line, blocks out the pain of bits of rubber gravel embedded in my knees, my hand, my arm. I'll be smudged for the rest of the day, but the world is real again.
Silence deafens you. You can hear silence. Does silence occur when sound leaves, or does it force sound away?
But if it's something you can hear, it's something you can feel. And thus, something you can dance to, play the accompaniment to, harmonize with.
I think I should like to see the score for silence.
Profile
Recent Visitors
November 5th
fuhstified
November 4th
fuhstified
November 3rd
fuhstified
October 26th
fuhstified
October 24th
fuhstified
October 23rd
fuhstified
Andreux
October 4th
fuhstified
October 2nd
fuhstified
September 30th
fuhstified
Bookmarks
