I imagine
as poets tend to do
if impossible were possible
and was thought to never be
could for just a minute sit
where I can see
what would Mr. Adams silence say?
45 years it spent stuck
buried deep within the soul
of a man who's own eyes
had had his childhood stolen
in a mere blink of those same eyes
he ran for cover and tried to hide
but when that that you run from
lays inside
you can not escape
there is no place that feels safe
and over time
the silence began to sprout vines
reaching toward the heavens
by way of his mouth
his body still shivering
as if it remained in the south
the words began to dance cross his tongue
as the now older man tell the story
of where that boy who saw it all
had come from
and where he went after
why never again the same
was the sound of his laughter
the silence spoke the close of that chapter
as he finally recounted what he saw
that hot summer in July
if Mr. Adams silence spoke
it would say the truth that was sought
but was too afraid then to even try

I sit and imagine that day
after Mr. Adams told the FBI
what he had to say
I'm sure both he and the silence
sighed and cried