the world is quiet here

(because when all else fails, write a poem about it)

The world is quiet here--

a hum beneath the skin,

thin as memory; soft as

rabbit fur. I want to grow old

with these eyes, watch their sharpness

bleed like ink in water, blending

what is, what was, what could have been.

When suddenly, like a ship

in harbor, its ropes unraveled,

salt comes to settle.

Tides defy its mast.

I am home--I say;

home amongst the steadfast

rumble of morning; not to rest,

not to breathe, but to finally

remember how to stay.

—

Grace L. Brooks

Written: January 13th, 2025

---