And sound was silent, the room
Cold with its absence.
I spoke.
Something gutteral and incoherent.
A punctuation of fear and design.
I saw
Blank walls shifting with shadows
Dancing motes in stray light.
But the silence competed with sensation
Of holy loss and disturbed communion.
Where was the howling, the tolling of bells?
Extravagant in their presence,
Abhorrent in their nothingness,
Like shadows, on a coloured wall.