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