perhaps the hardest thing to know

when to speak

when to keep silent

do we have arguments
we know we’ll lose
because of the importance of
what must be said?

I have a vision, sometimes,
of bricking myself in
brick by brick by brick
leaving just a little slot for water and
the occasional sandwich
a small opening at the top
to let in the rain

maybe if I figure out how to paint it
that will do
and the fact that some
won’t know what I meant
will be the blessing rather
than the curse



2 thoughts on “perhaps the hardest thing to know

  1. I’m with you on this – it really is hard to know how much to say, and this occupies a lot of my thinking. I think there’s a gender-divide, though, which places me down the end of saying too little and you up the other end. My partner L is of the inclination to say what I would regard as “too much” because she believes it should be said. The outcome over her life has been a lot of fractured relationships and changes of job. Is she more

    And it’s a funny coincidence in relation to the vision of you bricking yourself in – yesterday (after taking my mother to the memory clinic in the morning where the doctor declared that she probably had Alzheimer’s) I spent the afternoon moving my few books and papers and all my mother’s files and records etc from our house into a small former-dark room attached to a shed in our back yard. (the room which was my ‘study’ is about to be converted to a store room, filled with my mother’s and daughter’s stuff). This is more-or less now my only personal space in our house apart from my side of the bed. I sat in there to have my dinner and work on the latest letter to my mother’s accountant and letters to my brother about what’s happening with our mother. I felt decidedly “bricked in” in this small room with no windows and located remote from family. I’m physically closed off as well as verbally.

    • You seem to have lost part of a sentence, Is she more . . . . (?)

      As for the rest, well, right now I think I would feel better all “bricked in” — I can’t even find the desire to write a new post, or call a very best friend. I do think I would want Husband in there with me, besides the slot for the sandwich, and the opening for the rain. Stretches of silence. Not always bad.

      In yoga tonight the teacher was talking about how busy we all get doing, and forget about just being. I just “be’d” for an hour and fifteen minutes. I didn’t want to leave.

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