The Knowing Is In Silence—Adam Whipple
Adam Whipple is a musician, poet, and author living in Knoxville, Tennessee, and a graduate of Carson-Newman University. His essays and poetry have appeared on The Rabbit Room, in Curator Magazine, Blue Mountain Review, The Pigeon Parade Quarterly, and Analogue. His albums can be found on all major digital outlets.
The Knowing is in Silence
The house, framed by underlit clouds Across the river’s Renoir-stippled sheen, Could be a scene From out of time— A storied farmhouse Ruminating behind Maples sparsely copsed And known in winter’s leaflessness Only by their shape, A beauty limned in yearly death. Here. We’re lost inside the evening car Beneath the pelting rain of New Year’s Day, Like drums or trains Distant on the roof, Forming a bell jar Inside which your grief, Fatherless and void, Digs for purchase in my silence, Staring down my words, Daring them to breach your tempest. The river is where we view comings and goings. Under spanning trusses, between the caissons, Currents unseen Press and join Their alluvial might, plowing Broad slurries of loam Down, down to the sea Which is vast and doesn’t presume To stem your tired weeping, But weeps until all things are new
Did this poem move you in a particular way? Did anything stand out to you? Let us know!
Photo by Valentin Müller on Unsplash