SILENT WHISPERS

 

Technoise batters senses.

McDONALD’S--MAZDA--

MOTRIN--MATTELL

shout each other out.

NIKE is a shoe.

 

Demands rob my time.

Dinner, laundry for a special shirt,

Husband’s mall trip that cannot

          be made alone.

 

Music--appreciated or assailing

tender inner drums--

barricades soft words.

 

She is not heard.

 

Sight, sound, taste, touch

drown together into modern amalgamation.

I am deaf.

 

Isis cannot be heard.

 

Breeze wafts a crow feather

to land at my feet.

Breath of wind kisses my cheek

 with invisible tenderness.

Northern gust envelops me

 with a taste of future rain.

Hot swirls bring crow’s

raucous cawing from a high branch.

 

Isis speaks through silent whispers.

 

                                   Jeanne Leiter, July 1995