Beyond the Many Mouths

Beyond the many mouths
Of the imagination,
Or dreams,
Which give us words,
Is numbness
Like a wind
Through icy branches,
Or the dead center
Of what we know.
In a stillness
That whispers,
A silence
That rustles
Like dead leaves,
Clacking like branches
In the night,
In the darkness burning,
We cannot look
Upon others
Without compassion,
Or upon ourselves
Without fear.