The Saint of Silence

It’s the Saint of Silence

that holds my confessions

in a cloistered room

I profess my secrets 

and blessings

It’s the Saint of Silence

to which I unfold 

a manuscript held

untold, in a heap 

I lay bare my fold, of secrets

It’s the Saint of Silence

that calls my soul to an altar

I lay bare, no bones, no blood

no fear to share, as tears run

like water’s song, holy sung

It’s the Saint of Silence

that bathes my spirit, whole

pages that hold a lifeblood 

a breath behold, my verse rises

unto a testament, ensconced in gold.

©Jay Mora-Shihadeh

Photo by Sophie on Unsplash

#Poetry #Saint #Silence #Freeverse