The Words Do Not Come/ Not Even As Whispers Poem by Shalom Freedman

The words do not come
Not even as whispers
The silence is not the silence of peace rest or holiness
Inward emptiness is the song of the hour
And the darkness of all feeling lost-

Words are a power
And a blessing
For the true poet
Even silence says something-

But here where within there is no light
Words are only the forced privileges of a long lost meaninglessness
And I in between
Try to hide that emptiness
And make of my own struggle
A music that means perhaps something somehow