Silent screams are surprisingly loud;
they can catch you unawares, jar
you from assumed reverie.
Silent screams can fill the car;
if allowed voice they might shatter
windshields, scar vocal cords.
Silent screams can echo with
ghostly reverb through family trees,
a trauma crescendo embedded in DNA.
Silent screams are surprisingly loud;
just ask Munch’s painted figure,
who never hears his own screams,
yet needs both hands to shield his ears.
Kellie Brown is a violinist, conductor, and music educator. As a writer and poet, she explores themes of place, material culture, and healing journeys. Her words have appeared in Writerly, Amethyst Review, Psaltery & Lyre, Galway Review, and others.
So good, Kellie and like Rebecca said, I felt it in the gut. I’m haunted by the times I’ve screamed like this in the past.
Wow. The sounds and meanings in the poems get me in the gut; they are deeply true.