Visual Art/Poetry Feature

What lies between silence and revelation? Where do unspoken

words gather their power? We invited poets and prose writers alike, to respond to our provocative visual prompt in June - a striking image

exploring boundaries between restraint and expression and chose

thirteen poets out of twenty to feature.

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"THE STATION OF SILENCE"

Silence is the provision of the wise, and it is a balance of reason and dignity among people.

It elevates the heart of the sane and guides it.

A light when the storm looms.

And speech, if its content is not balanced, does not achieve good or bear fruit.

The best speech is brief, if it calls for benefit, not when the moons roar. Say what is beneficial, and do not stir up idle talk that leads to destruction.

The secret lies in brevity and respect. and connects your speech to the wisdom that comes from morals and altruism

higher education, beneficial knowledge,

and the behavior of a society with determination.

It produces words when spoken. Honesty.

It brings people what they desire,

for words are an arrow that may strike

our path, or destroy a person,

and it is a dialogue. Let words be an everlasting light that flows,

and the traces are preserved

between us.

© MOHAMED KERKOUB

Algeria

---

"THE WEIGHT OF ALMOST"

Maya's thumb traces the cool metal, back and forth, a nervous habit

she's developed over the past three months. The zipper is small, delicate

- a piece of performance art she commissioned after the diagnosis,

back when she thought metaphors might save her. Sealed lips for a sealed fate,

the artist had explained, but Maya hadn't been thinking about fate then.

She'd been thinking about control.

The words sit heavy behind her teeth: malignant, metastasized, six months.

Dr. Patel had used them so clinically, as if they were just another Tuesday

morning appointment, not the collapse of everything Maya had built.

Her mother sits three feet away, humming while she folds laundry,

completely unaware that her daughter is dying.

Has been dying. Will continue dying.

Maya's finger catches on a zipper tooth. Such a small thing to carry such weight.

She could tell her now - just reach up, pull the metal tab, let the words pour out

like blood from a puncture wound. "Mom, I need to tell you something."

Simple. Direct. True.

But then there would be the crying. The frantic phone calls to Maya's sister in Portland.

The googling of treatments, the desperate reaching for second opinions they can't afford.

Her mother would transform from this peaceful woman folding dish towels into someone

Maya doesn't recognize - someone broken by hope and terror in equal measure.

The zipper warms under her touch. Such a strange comfort, this barrier she's created.

In therapy, Dr. Chen keeps asking about "healthy communication" and "family support

systems", but Dr. Chen has never watched her mother hum contentedly while sorting socks,

never seen the way her face crumples when she thinks no one is looking and reads about

mass shootings on the news. Some people aren't built to carry other people's dying.

Maya's phone buzzes: a text from Jake, her ex, asking if she wants to grab coffee.

She hasn't spoken to him since the diagnosis, hasn't told him either. The list of

people who don't know keeps growing - coworkers who compliment her new haircut,

not knowing it's a wig, neighbors who wave from their porches, not knowing she counts

each sunset now.

Her mother holds up a tablecloth, shaking out the wrinkles. "This is your grandmother's",

she says softly. "From her wedding trousseau. Ninety-three years old and still beautiful."

She smooths it carefully, reverently.

Maya's hand moves toward the zipper tab. The metal is warm now, almost burning.

Three months of silence, of carrying this alone, of protecting everyone from the truth.

But protection, she's learning, is just another word for isolation. And isolation is its own

kind of dying.

"Mom," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her mother looks up, smiling.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Maya's fingers close around the zipper. The moment stretches between them -

her mother's expectant face, the afternoon light filtering through lace curtains,

the weight of words that will change everything once they've spoken. She thinks

of Dr. Patel's careful explanations, of treatment options that might buy her time,

of the way secrets corrode from the inside out.

The zipper moves a fraction of an inch.

© CONCETTA PIPIA

U.S.

---

"THOSE RUBY RED LIPS"

Who hides behind those ruby red lips

with an uncertain smile no man could resist?

Only she knows the secrets never spoken

of the beatings she's taken; leaving her

broken.

Hands pulling at her without her permission

A working girl with little commission.

She dreams of a prince who comes like a savior

but awakes to the one who now has enslaved her.

No family to call, no life of her own

just a beautiful face and a body on loan.

Too scared to ask for help from a stranger

for any communication may put her in danger.

So, she keeps the red lips closed as tight as a zipper

the beautiful young girl who lives the life of a stripper.

© KRISTY RAINES

U.S.

---

"SILENCE AND WORDS IN A MERGE OF SOMETHING"

Words are. unzipped once silence unties its chain;

Hidden feelings find their way out into life.

They bloom like fire trees in a drenching rain,

Swaying in the wind and escaping strife.

Some remain silent, leaving echoes unheard;

They are too raw for our breath and eyesight.

Silence trembles down at the edge of each word,

And flares up our mood on the quietest night.

Hearts, too shy, are rehearsing what to say

Whilst lips are deeply sealed beneath our smiles -

Thoughts lie in our minds in a certain way,

And pace in herds wherein silence beguiles.

Lo! I verse words, though still I say nothing,

For silence is teaching words to be something.

© WALID BOUREGHDA

Algeria **********

"THE WEIGHT OF UNMEANT THINGS"

Walking down the streets, erring here and there,

Overthinking the words, you said to me.

I know you didn't mean them, and despair

Yet things are by now done. Look back and see!

You sailed close to the wind and ne'er looked back;

It was a careless blaze of fiery love and hate.

Now all that's left is quiet, smoking wrack

Of our memories, overruled by latent fate.

I can hear broken thoughts like a shattered glass:

Each shard shows a certain truth out of my league.

And yet, drowning in love, no light may pass;

Hate bares weariness and love bares fatigue.

So let the words underfeed the silence

That weave aches and pains in our hearts and minds;

Love is a blazing fire bestrewn in patience,

Lurking in the shadows like sheets of wind.

© WALID BOUREGHDA

Algeria

---

"THE VOICE"

Hidden in the depths of ourselves is a voice, often ignored by the hustle and bustle of everyday life and blocked by indifference. To make itself heard is its only desire. Restrictions zips the heart's mouth. Only the mind can hear its plea and it projects its sadness through the crystal tears that are running down our cheeks. All those bottled up emotions hurt the soul so much, causing the slow deterioration of the body and mind as such.

But what if we decide to gather all the courage we could muster and listen to it in the arms of silence, far away from worldly things? Even if it is scolding us for the long neglect, it forgives us if we promise to treat it with respect. A flood of tears washes away the blues from our soul, making room for happiness and tranquility.

Its confession and our acceptance opened an eye that was closed for a long time, allowing us to see the details that we missed all these years. The unseen can be seen now. Equipped with courage, we're ready to lend our voice, making the freedom of expression possible again, hoping to make the world a better place.

© GHEORGHE LAURA

Romania

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The smartest of wisest tip is to keep a stiff upper lip avoid running loose a gossipy fib ban spread of rumors on ego trip meaningless verbosity is not hip truth kool-aid of honesty is ideal sip allow not shallow, faking opining - nip divine grace reigns on negativity dip embrace sans judgement, over word whip from toxicity switch on light with mind flip Let reign silence unless words are nicer to say articulate kindness, blessings for all that pray.

© RUPA RAO

U.S.

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"LOUDER"

In silence, I move across the dark alleys Before the sun breaks out in the dawn Along the rows of cardboard shanties This is where my fate was drawn. Being poor has a smell In silence, nobody wanted to tell Like a mix of rotten flesh and dirt Of broken dreams and promises never felt. In silence, I hide behind the pulpit Spewing fear, obedience, and guilt I stole your money for Heaven's gate Fire and damnation, I could create.

In silence, I rained bombs over your head Never mind the children, women and old God is talking to me clearly, I heard You will be erased in the land, I was told. I silence, I drink this cup of lies I spit in bitterness of anger and strife The sands turned red by the pool of hate Where is the promise of my faith?

In silence, I made these lamentations Would it be easier to rule over the heap of bones Should one of us perish If we can't agree to live together in peace.

The silence is getting louder

It made my bones to shiver It turned out to be blank stares into nothing Deafening silence, I could only hear my longing

If I were to speak, would you listen

If you see the tears in my face Would you pause a while to care When this silence becomes a whisper In your ears and in your heart Am I worth it? Am I enough? In silence, I'm tracing back my footsteps I heard a distant thunder rolling Later on, this pavement will be drenched If only it would flood once again Sweeping me away in silence Never ever would I come back Because in silence I am drowning. They say poverty has a smell Bombs can be silenced Tears can dry Sometimes silence can be heard But I don't know if it's true Yeah, how may I ever know?

© FLOYD GALE CABUS

Philippines

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"SILENCED"

Silenced, scared Forbidden to speak Say the wrong thing Out of context in tweaked Freedom of speech Slowly taken away Terms and analogies Changed by the hour, the day

Politics, color, religion or creed

All talk of any subjects today

Seems to be a misdeed...

© DONNA McCABE

UK

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"ZIPPERED BLOOD RED LIPS"

Free speech, what a peach,

Red on one side, filled with blood,

Orange is getting ready to spill it

on the beach, yellow glows to an attractive bond.

Luring you in to speak and spill Your life's golden opinions Only to be torn apart and grill Your blue blood in a spit of confirmations.

That your ideologies conform Without opposition to ICE',

Or politically connected storm

Of people who can turn, in a thrice.

The ability to protest against An imposed narrative that demands People's acceptance of it being a test Of vindicating themselves for atrocities.

Done in the name of 'Being

GOD's chosen people' while

Everyone else's opinion, crossing

Theirs is automatically treated vile

As a treacherous snake attacking

From any hidden point to use

Surprise as a ruse to killing

More and more babes, women, whose Children, brothers, sisters, sires,

Have been decimated in honor

Of keeping Free Speech as peaches

That have red lips zipped in golden color.

'A cage, no matter how beautiful,

Is still a cage', and red lipped lips

Shiny in blood red rouge is blissful

In the knowledge that free speech becomes

corpses.

© MALAK KALMONI CHEHAB

Canada

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"LIPS CAN'T HOLD BACK FEELINGS"

Don't reveal your mind

By putting words into your lips;

I can read your eyes,

Just keep them open, and let me read.

Where else can you hide

Your thoughts, which float on air

Like pappus, drifting on

In search of a place to germinate.

Where lips fail to communicate,

The breath unfolds feelings, quietly,

Echoing the unspoken words,

Like drum beats, in a silent manuever.

Lips can't hold back feelings

When they gather at the seams,

They tremble and overflow,

And reach through the pores of the heart.

When words get caught

Behind lips, the sounds seep through

In silence, revealing the intent

And hum like bees, asking to be heard.

© KALUCHARAN SAHU

India

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"CHOOSE TO REMAIN SILENT"

Let me immerse myself in self-reflection

To delve into something words cannot express

The intrinsic sense that is inviolate

Of untainted morals, traits, and characters.

Silence is the hallmark of sheer dignity

Eloquent and vivid like spoken words can be

Intense and sonorous, minus a wagging tongue

A clear message comes across within the heart and mind.

In love, it is the heart that shows the signs

Either to inflict pain or breed romance

The signs are there, no words to spare

Love blooms, spreads fragrance like a flower.

Outbursts of emotions should create no harm

Hurting words are like arrows piercing the mind

Once ranted and spoken, there's the extreme pain

So choose to remain silent, for everybody's gain.

© GUS PEREZ AMIO

Philippines

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"ALGORITHM OF UNDERSTANDING"

Zipped words of heart

Are comforted cozily

With a blanket of secrecy!

Even if few words fall out

While unzipping it,

Responses can be cold!

Inside it, there's

A luggage of sorrow

And an untold tale of intensity!

Few bits of pleasant memories

Holding them tightly with

A fragrance of untouched emotions.

Letting it stay there

Waiting for your words,

Which are sill unsaid!

Frankly, I have already

Zipped out many secrets

But yours is intact in your beats.

I believe in balancing the truths

Let me hear more from your life,

Only then my bag of feelings will sound!

Enigmatic sentences sound unreal

But an empathetic being can code

Even the worst acts into an understandable data!

© SONAL RAO

India

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"THE ZIPPED LIPS LADY"

She sits silent the whole day

The zipped lips lady

Not a syllable speaks her tongue

But to greet her daddy.

A flower of the field at times

Blushing, innocent face,

Thick curls of brown

Sparkled the angelic grace

Fortune whipped her hard

Who knows the sin

She lapped quietly the sorrow

Her God to win

She had been broken quite

By the grief

Of conjugal prank

Alas, no relief

It had turned her taciturn

Both inside and out

Whiling away time sans life

Ah! The horrible drought!

© SAFDAR BHATTI

Pakistan