The Cacophony of silence (#poetry in progress)

We lay together in the darkness

neither speaking

your hand across my waist.

I remember the words of yesterday

and they fester

like an open wound in my heart.

I want to tell you that it hurt

Do you recall the old nursery rhyme

about sticks and stones?

Well it was wrong,

because words do hurt me

more because they linger in the air

of unspoken conversations.


The inciting incident

should have been but a brief disagreement

( laundry and two missing dollars bills)

But you defamed my character.

Claimed I never listen

yet I am sitting next you

as you yell your point into my ear

spittle flying

How could I miss one word of what you say?

Trust me I listen,

I hear

how you must always be right.

Pounding your point home

until I give up

my point

my spirit

my life.


Leaving me to wonder,

why do I even talk?

No one hears what I am saying.

One voice rises up over the other until

it reaches a crescendo of massive proportions

and my original argument is lost.

Who cares about two missing dollars,

when you don’t believe in me?


I left you sitting on the bed in silence,

your head in your hands

but I could hear you mind working

You thought I was going mad.


So now I lay in your arms until I can’t take it another moment

I must capture these words spilling from my heart

get these things off my chest

and into the ear

of someone who can hear my small voice

even if it is not you…


The cacophony of my silence

speaks louder than I could scream.



Filed under African American Authors, poetry

3 responses to “The Cacophony of silence (#poetry in progress)

  1. Ava

    Hi there,
    I am currently writing up my PhD on how African and Caribbean heritage women women seek help and relate to their bodies after experiencing violence. I am transcribing an interview and I am trying to interpret what I am hearing so I googled ‘the cacophony of silence’ and up popped your poem that so eloquently and succinctly describes the noise that I hear in the silences of the women’s experiences.

    I have noted this page as a reference to your poem. I would love to know if it is in print…

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