Silence by Rae Iolene

Silence

Silence is the absence of no sound,

but yet the leaves rustle in the woods.

But yet, I find solace in the crevices of moonwood

in the bats swooping up and down in the glow.

Sometimes it’s easier to be alone. Alone. 

The isolation, a rot found underneath a log. 

I wish for the peace found in ripples across the pond.

The stillness buried deep at midnight.

How is it possible to break free? 

The search continues. Continues.

It’s endless in its ability to gnaw and push and claw. 

The map is upside down. Where’s the treasure? 

X marks the spot on a shadowed trail. 

It’s a ghoul’s hand pushing me forward, forward forward. 

Look at it. Look at it. Look at it. 

I could write forever and it would never be enough. 

The patterns continue, replicate.

Is it possible to have a tattoo of indecision? 

Nature murders the indifferent. 

Apathy is a flaw in evolutionary powers. 

The push relentless and archaic. 

I fight against the inevitable.

But I’ve been quiet for too long, haven’t I?

Healing, you know, isn’t possible without a scar. 

xx. Rae Iolene 

27 April 2026