I might as well be here as anywhere:
the space I fill is empty somewhere else.
I need this silence, as though it were a prayer
chanted to someone able to repair
all inner hurt, by monks in separate cells.
I might as well be here, for anywhere
I go I know there’s nobody out there
who gives a damn what such a story tells,
and I need this silence as though it were a prayer
I hadn’t harmed you more than I can bear
to think. Among my pin-code’s choice of hells
I might as well be here as anywhere,
since in this darkness I’m at least aware
of this stark truth, which chastens yet compels,
I need this silence – as though it were a prayer.
It’s almost freedom, in its way, to stare
into the pit which normally repels:
I might as well be here as anywhere –
I need this silence. As though it were a prayer.
Selected for The Ver Prize 2009 anthology