by Michael Mallows

Created on: August 14, 2008

I like many noises. The sound of a child laughing, the raucous laughter of friends, the sussuration of the wind on the trees just before rainfall, the furry purring of the cat curled like an apostrophe in my lap.

Silence is the soul deep hiatus between love making and the gentle murmer of contentment that follows, and the pregnant pause between the kids squabbling and making up, or the neighbour's dog frantic with welcome as my car turns into the drive.

And silence is the tasteless, soundless noises wrapped around the wider world - traffic on the highway, the held breath of the surf between ebb and flow, as the sea lazily rolls itself up the beach, the cawing of crows, the inhalation before yells at a football game, the sneer that oozes contempt, the lull in argument in the street, the shiver trigggered by the screech of tyres or the squeal of brakes, the frowning concern of parent waiting for an answering call from a missing child, the feeling left after the roar of a 'plane flying over, the instant between pitter and patter as rain drums on the roof of a tent.

Silences - some pregnant with meaning, some restful with repose, some that link us in anger after an argument, or in peace after making love. The silence of the house in the afternoon when only ghosts or memories are at home, the silence of the garden that is offset and heightened by the buzzing of a bee or the coughing of a fox.

And there are the quiet moments of daydreams when we roam the universe. The quiet moments of thought and fantasy. The quiet moments when we really need to speak our truth, articulate our need, refuse a request, assert our rights, demand our dues. Such silences are born of fear.

And the silent screams when we have been betrayed, or cheated, or abandoned, or abused.
The night time silences when we are amidst shadows and may be visited by ghosts, or guilt!

And we can imagine the silence of the grave when some one we love has been lowered into it.

And the silence that flows from the fact that we will never hear their voice direct from their lips. The things they will never repeat, the things we can never tell them, the words unspoken, the whispers too quiet for human ears, the silence too terrible for human hearts to bear. And yet we bear them.

And so, we create harmony or discord as we find or lose the balance between sounds and silences; a space as wide as forever or as infinitely small as the beating of a heart.

Shhh....

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