Amid The Noise

Saturday begins with music;
it ends following the morning
and the night.

Silence before,
on Friday; silence after,
on Sunday.

In between, a noisy chant;
litany of devils; angels; ordinary
men and women.

There is one moment
you ask for; a moment
of clarity amid the din.

It’s a moment, a few seconds
of rest, quiet before
sounds rise again.

You turn from your window,
face the wall away. You take a few seconds
knowing it will start again

and it does.
Same cacophony;
same ruckus;

music for a disappearance.
You pause amid the noise.
You breathe; you remain intact.

You have done all you can do.
It’s up to the next person
to face the sound.

Up to the next devil, angel,
child or man or woman.
Wipe your hands of it.

Go home, dreaming
of dying wind,
of music unceasing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T