Silence is Such a Sickening Sound (a poem)

In a recent poetry reading, in a famous poetry location, and among a temporary workshop poetry family, a listener who was greatly disturbed by one of the poems read came up to the podium to share that feedback. As the author of the poem in question, I applaud and respect and take heart from that response; hoping I would have the integrity to do the same thing if it were me in the audience.

In a group discussion afterwards, one member expressed concern that she had not said anything, and put forth that it was something that needed to be reflected about.

Another person, while sharing the discomfort over the poem presented, said it would not be a good thing if the habit developed of disrupting readings when someone in the audience feels that something offensive is read. I see the wisdom in the later and I admire the passion of the first.

I add this poem to the discussion. I put it up about 6 weeks ago near the Starbucks in my town, and it is still there.

Silence is such a sickening sound.

You hear it on rooftops, in every town,

In every tongue its chords resound.

Though blood is screaming from the ground,

Its voice is ever, always found.

Silence— such a sickening sound.

Silence—careful—it’s a disease.

It strikes the feeble heart with ease

As people do whatever we please.

Sometimes you hear it in the trees,

A fatal plague of killer bees.

Beware the spread of the silence disease.

Silence is the sharpest knife.

Ignored by husband, see the wife

Sucking breath to save her life.

Filled with noise, the world is rife

With tongues that pay the silence price.

Silence, this is the sharpest knife.

Silence is our smoothest lie.

We wear it as an alibi.

As frightened rodents run and hide,

Or people right before us die,

we, the silent, close our eyes.

Silence, this is our smoothest lie.

Silence is our common crime.

Humans tend to love our kind,

preferring to play dumb and blind.

See those children, in the mine?

Silence whispers “Never mind.”

Committing silence, that’s our crime.

Silence is such a sickening sound,

But I guess it’s always been around,

the native speech of every town.

It’s hard to buck the common crowd

when silence wears the public crown.

Silence—shhhh! Don’t make a sound.