It was only my own voice that I had heard, But at first I did not know it for my own. Although my lips had formed no single word, And the voice seemed one that I had never known, Still it was mine. I knew that it must be: This secret voice that I had not surmised, This cry flung from the unsuspected sea Of loneliness by which I was surprised. It was as though my other selves came thronging To see this wonder washed up on the shore, This one, heart-shaken with immortal longing, That must possess its life forever more. And over and over again one cry she made: "I am afraid of silence. I am afraid." |