Often
I keep quiet
I purse my lips
Even allow myself to grimace
From the effort to resist
The temptation to name
The thought that wells in me
Despite myself.

I wear this silence
Like a shroud
Because the unnamed
Is magical, mysterious.
Because to name would be
Violent sacrilege
To voice,
Wanton transgression.

Under the shroud
I boil bubble froth
In terrible unrest
Like a druid's cauldron
And yet I refrain
I hold back
I don't want to break
The torment
Of imminent release

But I'm as human as you are
Because sometimes
Despite myself
I let go
I burst
I sing and cry
I join the celestial chorus
Warbling chirping tweeting
And my voice
Adds ink and pink
To my sky