How did she love when the love she found
Demanded silence, and not one small sound
Was allowed in her heavens or on her ground?
She did not love, for silence engenders fear;
Silence kills love if the love is near,
For sounds are sacred when they enter the ear.
But when love is outside, making no sound,
Like a spider on the wall, a statue, or a mound,
It may have authority and may be profound
But it withers and dies like death underground.
She told me all this as I looked in her eye,
And then she looked down and began to cry,
But I touched her hand, and sang; never silent, I,
Never one to care for confusion or fear,
For sounds are sacred when they enter the ear
And love is made of sound: like this poem here.