Silence Inside

My friend wrote that her daughter
had been sexually assaulted.
Rage, murderous inklings,
outrage, a shriek for justice!

I have a silence inside.

I will the presence of my hand
felt on her shoulder.
I want to sit and listen
or take a walk where sparrows
chatter invisible in trees.

I have a silence inside.

I have no words
of comfort or advice.
If I could hug them,
would it be okay?
Would hot tea warm
the new resident cold?

I have a silence inside.

Diane Webster's goal is to remain open to poetry ideas in everyday life, nature or an overheard phrase and to write. Diane enjoys the challenge of transforming images into words to fit her poems. Her work has appeared in North Dakota Quarterly, Old Red Kimono, Talking River Review, and other literary magazines.