The Appliance of Silence

Some silence isn’t golden.
It’s really made of lead.
It’s punishing.
And secretive.
And messes with the head.
It rolls around in empty space
Gathering momentum
Edging worries into cracks
With intention to conceal them,
The freeze-thaw cycle of timeless repetition
Systematically emphasising disparate disposition
While colleagues, friends and families
Nurse their insecurities,
Sensing something’s gone awry
But too ‘embarrassed’ to even try
Reaching out across the space
Just for the want of saving face.
How great, truly, is the gamble
To Boldly Go¹, not coyly amble,
To a place of open mind,
Leaving artifice behind?
Even if not a gambling man,
The principle’s easy to understand:
Simple authenticity²
Trumps even well-crafted duplicity.


¹A nod to the inimitable Star Trek…
² Ref: On Becoming A Person by Carl Rogers (1961). Worth a read.


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