Why We Are Silent

by Conrad Martin

I followed the sun away one night.
The day was pressing inside my throat,
and I could not stay—
I followed the sun away.

I came in the night to the rim of space
where the universe ends in the last, lost sky,
and oceans of blackness and stars flow over
a falls inconsolably high.

I stood on the rushing rim of worlds,
and I leaned on the edge with a wind in my head,
and the call grew crushing against my throat,
and I could not cry.

The dark was alive with hidden flight,
my spine was an ache of intangible wings,
my arms strewed agony through the night,
and I could not fly.

And now, in this dimness of sleeping day,
I ask you your name, and you ask me mine—
And we cannot lie—
And we cannot say.

Conrad Martin loves words for their ability to create deeper awareness and experience of life through connection between minds and hearts.

Videography by James Weaver

3 thoughts on “Conrad Martin: Why We Are Silent”

  1. I loved this poem in the Leaf magazine, but this is even better. A perfection of words and presentation to express gut-deep emotion.
    Thank you.

  2. Images for the anguish of being that almost suffice: “arms strewed agony” on the “rim of space.” My hands claw.

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