Pea Soup

 

Sometimes the silence is palpable

the emptiness so thick 

you could cut it with a knife

It hides in plain sight—

like tinnitus, that low 

but constant ringing in the ear,

ambient noise until

it gets so loud you are 

forced to confront it.

Then it subsides, 

fades to the background

until the next time, and the next,

and the time after that.

We don’t talk about such things,

in doing so we might appear weak.

Among our friends, only few actually 

understand that to listen is a gift

when there is nothing to be said.

That the offering of prayers or platitudes

does little to chase the pain away.

So I compartmentalize for another day

and move on. Surrendering is not an option

Circumstances would be so easy to use

as a reason, my excuse, but accepting

I’m a victim makes for poor reality;

so I gather up initiative

to recreate my narrative;

as I struggle in my own duplicity

 

© Ginny Brannan 2022