There is No Silence

There is no silence deep enough
to bury a mother from the glaring
light of involuntary love
so completely
that when the firstborn cries,
she can imagine it was
only the wind outside
the window of her heart.

No, even in what could be called silence
she hears his voice in the
movement of the air in a winter-stale house.
She strains her eyes in the darkness
to see the light of his dreams.

There is no silence long enough
to soothe a mother into
healing sleep after
day-long bleeding out her love.
And when the baby stirs,
she runs to the cradle
to cover him with her warm, dripping life,
as she gives again
more than she possesses.

There is no silence.
No, none.