Being a real Soul

by BOB GALLO   Jan 6, 2022

I watched how my faith faded right in front of me.
So, I turned loquacious
these phantoms could really listen.

My penchant of talking
was like the desolation of a drowning man
hanging onto the last gasp,
clutching at the last thing,
a fiction of something afloat,
but there was no one between those ears,
no one between my throat and where my voice vanished.
no oxygen in those gulps
in those
violent inhalations.

For them, I was not a crying heart,
I was just a knot of noise
in the textile of such tumultuous traffic:
nothing special,
nothing that may sum up sometime
to being a person,
to being a SOUL!

Nothing ever made me feel more homeless,
more forsaken than
when I was amongst them.
So, I chose loneliness.
I chose night
to listen to the silence.

It was in that muteness
where I heard
all the lonely voices,
the very sound of our shared alienation
I was no more alone
That I was never alone.

We all share the night.
the sky is
our collective solitude.


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