silences

what gifts do we bring to those whom we love?

what weapons do we bring to a battle?

every lover is an undiscovered
country, and all our maps are wrong, so wrong

we may as well use them for wrapping up

the pieces of ourselves that we cut off.

this quiet is not peace, nothing so pure

it is the absence of strife that echoes
after strife, the calm that comes after tears,

the measured decision to say nothing

yet again. silence is my gift to you.

once i could have given you other things

it did start that way, but now my sole gift

and perhaps my weapon, is this silence.

and you? your gift is anger, your weapons,
noise and flight from the field of our battle.

i do not know myself whether silence 

is gift or weapon, but i know it feels

like it is all that i have left to give.