Silence is Golden

She quietly sits staring
sometimes at the bruises
on her arms her legs
wondering how they got there
She doesn’t recall her husband,
son, her daughter lifting her
from the floor.

He now has time to
reminisce and hash around all
the sermons all the words written
from sixty years of ministry
Lies down ten hours at a time
with tubes and needles
feeding him nutrition
and cleansed blood

They come together
for short moments in the day
husband and wife, life partners
instinctively embrace
sit on their irreplaceable sofa
on that one spot
molded through time
and sit without speaking
just stare forward
Her tiny arms and feeble chest
wraps tightly around his
his arm blankets around
her shoulders

When once his words were his sustenance
her violin titillating
ears in concert halls
and churches
Now words no longer spoken
fingers no longer stretch strings
once awakening angels
They now sit
in silence