Ge0rge Wu

Silence spreads. 

It blankets churning mouths like grazing cows come frost.

Never has the silence echoed so. 

Can it be nothing more than new life?

Bounding through marshes

And clover 

And buttercup

And moss

And underneath that moss

Death

We stood at the entrance of a new age. 

Past a garden of all we had ever known,

We found the gate.  

Past what we were meant to know and created to be.

She wrote until her fingers carved groves in the silence and spoiled the blankness before. Then, she turned to each surface left unwrote and sang. The birch trees wept as she tore back the bark to reveal stories beneath. 

I await you in the open grass–

The rolling plains roam my mind

Dark-swept winds ride the horizon–

Damp with the promises you left unanswered