Living Tree Poetry

Silence is the skin,
not too thick, not too thin.

Silence is the skin
we move in,

soft feet,
soundless.

That we can walk into danger
covered.

Silence is the hide thick,
from which arrows deflect.

Silence is the voice kept still,
soft, resilient.

Silence is the bruised reed,
restored whole and taut.

And silence is the face
that turns its cheek.

The mouth that does not
answer back.

Yes, silence is the skin,
the covering,

the outer channel
for a liquid love.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
July 2020