Urban Silence

Travis R. Marker

 

I am not blind, I can see. The river

runs, the fountains fall, The trees

leaf out green, the Deer feed by

the trail, but I Cannot hear.

Five miles into the trail, I begin to

hear by heart – Pounding, bursting,

pulsing, Beating as if to die against

My chest.

I stop to drink. A deafening roar

Fills my ears. I no longer just see.

The river roars, the falls crash,

Trees creek, moans, and rustle,

Deer grind grass in their teeth.

I realize I have disappeared.

The city is gone. The canyon air

Carries the medium of sounds

Strange to my ears. I vanish

In the waves of sounds strange.

It is not a museum. It is an orchestra.

[box]This post is one of the winning entries in the Z-Arts 2013 Writing Contest and has been reprinted here with permission of the author, who retains the copyright. Opinions expressed in this piece are not necessarily those of the Zion Arts and Humanities Council.[/box]