How to Wear the Silence of Love

You wear your silence

as a black silk gown,

woven infinitesimal,

every thread a letter

of your lover's name.

And your stillness is

a trembling at the touch

of those invisible lips.

The motion of that kiss

has no first cause,

but a stirring in the groin

of loss.

One must dance naked

as a flame without a wick

to entice the dawn.

It is not enough

to be quiet and empty,

because there is honey

in each cell of darkness

and the tomb is full of wine.

If your meditation

does not consume the moon,

the stars, the pit

in the swirl of yearning

with a tongue of fire that

tastes the subtle, ruthless,

delicate blade of love

between heartbeats,

then you are not singing

from the center

of your desolation.

You are just being quiet

and empty,

which is not enough.

You are still waiting

for a God to say,

"Let there be light."

You must burn off

all these veils

and dance naked

in the moment before

you were born.

Photo by Dhivakaran S for Pexels