This silence is not the fresh fingering of morning, the moment before the awakening.
This silence is not the pure blank of night when only bugs and night owls are about.
This day-to-day lengthening of sorrows strings out over miles and memories
and missed opportunities.
This silence feels like loss.
This silence is not the hushed reverence that hovers over just born life.
This silence is not the sad sigh that respects a passing, one weary and worn out.
This breath to breath searching of answers that reaches from earth to heaven
and from heart to head–
this silence feels like loneliness.