There is power in silence. To speak, to tell all, is to make everything known, providing for closure and the ability to move on, to heal and forget; but, to say nothing is to keep our bond contained, and thus maintained. There is suspense in silence. The things left unsaid and unexplained remain so always, creating a forever connection, a pact based on unspoken words that should have been uttered long ago....
What, might I ask, are the three? Cowardice Selfishness Immaturity Perhaps the three are her, you, and me. . . the three that will forever haunt your dreams, like the Holy Trinity you gave up, as if nothing. You say she is your queen, with her wide nose, fat thighs, and ugly moustache. What about the princess you denied as your own? The little girl who will always be yours, no matter how hard you try to say no....
Your thick, black, sweaty hair. Your crooked, toothy grin. The nervous stutter of your voice. The smell of pencil lead and soap. The rough touch of hands well used. Of all the things Still tattooed in my memory Of you It is the slumped curve Of your shoulders and back As a paternal hand Pushed you the other way And you scurried from me, Carrying my life with you ....
‘It is yours,’ I said. ‘Yes, it is mine,’ you agreed. Your belly will grow and I will read poetry to your swelling, pink flesh. I will nurture you with Hayastan food. We will be as one. ……………….. silence ‘It is yours,’ I cried. ‘No, it is not,’ you muttered. ……………….. nothing.