we, the underestimated 

quiet, can be forces of nature

too; I can slip

into this cave and 

finding it dry as bone write

odes to Medusa and 

pray to deities of water without the need to 

speak, not even to whisper, 

If I were a god I would be a god of 

patience, 

witness this silence as thick as the sea

I can spend hundreds of years in 

this cave, eventually; I can cause tiny

grasses and trees to grow simply by

breathing.

originally published in Paper Cranes Literary Magazine