It’s difficult

To hear myself in the day

So much noise, so many noises

Often I long for the gentle hummof electricity

It flows through my lights and shines on me

But even when I turn them off, I hear a hum, a static, a sound

I think sometimes silence might silence me.

So I can deal with a genteel hum. It’s the doors and hinges

Brakes and phones, rustled clothing that hurts me

And my words escape like birds from an open cage

Catching them is as likely as grasping the wind whisking away.

But at night my birds haven’t flight, the wind is not strong enough

And they stay, and whisper me the things I think all day

Even on my shoulder, they never visit long

Yet grateful am I for every single song.