The sweet memories of graphite
slicing the pages'
brown paper.
Joints moving slowly across, 
forming images.
A silent music;
pure of talent.
My young self took treasure for granted.
Knowing it wouldn't last; 
didn't imagine it would slip away so soon.
A silent music broken into 
chaos; 
clouded was a monster 
wrapping itself around 
your miraculous mind.
Hate clouded your vision,
slowly forgetting you were the bearer
of beautiful silent talent.
Pieces of you detached themselves 
as we scrambled to fit them back.
Young ones were distant. Scared of the cloud over your
true being. 
Gone.
Your absence left a stain of grief;
a stain that could never be lifted.
The silent music ceased. 
Salty tears, grief, was all we knew.
Until I saw you.
You were sitting inside a tree trunk,
your roots sunk deep into the earth you loved.
You were in the feathers of the birds you watched.
You were in your drawings.
And my drawings.
In any form of music.
You're in your wife's stories.
You speak through the voices of your daughters.
My mother's expressions.
My introvertedness. 
All words gone unspoken you know now.
All things hidden revealed.
And just like that it's back.
Your silent understanding music.
I realized,
you were never gone from this world.
My world.
You're not bound to one spot now. 
You're within everything and everyone you've loved.
A silent music.
Your silent song.
Sung.