OUT OF SILENCE
My friend once took a vow of silence
a whole week in the Smoky Mountains
surrounded by the rustling sunlit trees
birdsong scored at intervals
rain paradiddling on the leaves
little gulps in the puddles
& that fifth night when the wind rose
& the dark thundered with percussion
things falling, turning over
trees creaking as they clung
My friend my poor friend
with nothing but books
prayers & meditation
silent meals silent walks
& silently after the storm
he crept to the one phone booth
on the vast estate & there he sought
not conversation not company
not even chatter
He wanted a human voice so badly
he cracked the white pages
ran a finger down the list
& like Olivier began to recite
the glorious alphabetical names
savoring them as if they were food
& he were starving
thrilling as they left
the empty chamber of his mouth
& made their passage into whisper
It must have been like that
when god broke his silence
& named the animals
--Patrick O'Leary