The Linnet's Wings The Sorrow - Page 122

The Linnet´s Wings Degrees of Silence Tom Sheehan Silence comes out of bullets that rot in the Earth or a bucket of live grenades some meek hero threw overboard in the Leyte Gulf. Silence is a wet stone without a carved name taking storm knives in a mile-wide cemetery in the Philippines or bones in a Kwajalein cave coming up white as good teeth in a hard jaw. Silence is a big RBI some kid drove home in Kansas in '41 and a father remembers the ball going like a bullet into left center. Silence is a brother swimming 100 miles off a New Zealand beach saying your name, through salt in his teeth, one last time. Silence is a grasped photo, old black & white, gone still in a dead hand, the smile carried off. 122