Silence
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After reading Max Reif's poem' The day after Thanksgiving'
this notion came all of a sudden.
His poem's last line(the boat after passing a bridge, only the voice-
remained, then silence) .
This line penetrated me.
Silence haunts me always
even under the hot sun I see the darkness
cannot bear up at all.
It rings my eardrums
like an arrow, wound my heart
and I feel it's palpitation stopped.
What a mighty thing is silence?
at last who takes all of us to his domicile
the Graveyard?
Dedicated to the poet Max. Reif.
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