On sacred scrolls of secrecy,
Sworn to self to hold silence dear,
This alien language of peace and quiet
Devours and stings my very own ear
What is this silence you utter?
Why do I hear your voice in every nothingness?
Why dead responses to every question posed?
Finding home in sabbatical calms.
You engraved your thoughts on Rosetta,
Divulging all that you never said,
You mustered zero courage to write
Nothing my ears could perfectly infer.
If Pharaoh cannot decode this dead peace,
Then I, in my trivial mind, cannot.
I’ll hold on to your old scrolls that holds
Everything recorded in your hush