On a day like this, when voices are louder than the sound of trains on the train tracks
and peace is harder to find than attending to the imaginary impending doom of a Roman attack,
I look for a silent sanctuary,
and I hope to never get back.
It is silent when I come but I sit down and make my own noise.
It is noise that's always sounded better than my own voice
and noise that I've always welcomed during days of distress and comfort alike.
It is noise that blocks out reminders of a ticking clock
and a running time.
The sanctuary is not silent; it is noisy,
but it is noise that I will always welcome.