“The silence depressed me. It wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.”

— Sylvia Plath in The Bell Jar (1963)

This was written during a night of insomnia… not so long ago…

I want to be that tree;
as green as its own spring leaves;
as hale as the green fists in the sky;
and as heavy as your gaze,
which ennobles my dreams
in your saneness thoughts.

I want to be the tree on which
you carve your fullest heart.

S