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Edge of Somewhere


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Edge of Somewhere > Journal

That Sound

Silence
Then—
A heartbeat
In the womb;
Suspended.
The first sound
We share—but
Unique;
A mother’s monologue.

Birth
And life follow
Days and sound
Collide.
The pulse our own
But, often, stifled.
As discord
Too much
Resonates.

Whispers
We each hold close
Our
Single shared unknown.
I listen, calmly
For this note to
Call me on.
I must attend
To Death’s deep undertone
That Sound
Is mine
—It’s mine
Alone.

• 6 July 2009

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