You walk ahead of me. The silence stands
On these white fields for miles at either side
And on the frozen lake. The trees
That file beside us can almost touch
Across our path. They are like hands
troubled by some forgotten prayer:
They are sustained by their burdenthe last m
Of silence. It is substantial
And stretches between us now. Your words,
Reverberating on it, as the branch you throw
Strikes angrily across the banks of snow
To disappear, are wasted.
As I noted when I posted Ian Hamilton’s ‘In Dreams’ I am going to post s selection of his poems to share this remarkable poet’s work. The Silence is the third Ian Hamilton poem in this series.
For more on Ian Hamilton, I refer you to: his Wikipedia page.
Thank you for reading Ian Hamilton’s ‘The Silence’. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.
Comments © 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved.