Inside Your Nerves
Silence is more expressive.
You feel something is beaming
in your blood. Light.
Some strength inside your nerves
wants to be free. You feel fever.
As if you hold a key to every door.
Nobody ever figures out what’s life
all about. You will put the gun down,
who stands beside you matters more.
Divinity of You, America
Silence of hunger compels us.
Silence of victory is different too. Silence is different when
lovers are hugged, it is different at dawn, when son
stood still before his father—
Divinity of calmness,
can you see me, now?
Silence is different in between words— silence is life,
that attracts you more, nature of silence—
divinity of trust, no, we are not silent.
Silence of patience is different as well.
Divinity of genius,
can you touch me, now?
Silence of a man who still believes is different—
silence of freedom is different. There is no greater speech
in the world then silence. There is no real word
in dictionary of spirit— the bosom of word is silence.
Divinity of revolution,
can you scream with me, now?
Only the truth can silence us. No need to talk when you
understand everything, no need to think either.
Silence is all you need to handle the truth,
its secret dwells in every beat of our hearts—
Divinity of loneliness,
can you hear me, now?
The Senses of Progress
I am walking on the Brooklyn Bridge now.
I am listening to the trembling of the rivers.
They say: “Remember us, the circumstances
of the present and the past shape, the
possibilities of progress.”
I am walking on the Manhattan Bridge now.
I am listening to the rays around me. They say:
“See us, by your progress, you generate
a future that would not have happened had
you not interrupted the flow of happenings.”
I am walking on Williamsburg Bridge now.
I am listening to the dust of the trees. They say:
“Taste us, the progress is a reason of your
breathing and the possibility for moving
forward is shaped by the facts of reality.”
I am walking on the Queensboro Bridge now.
I am listening to the joy-voice winds around me.
They say: “Hear us, by progressing, you have
an effect on how the future unfolds rather than
drifting into the future that would inevitably
follow the uninterrupted past.”
I am walking on the Washington Bridge now.
I am listening to the echoes of the wishes. They say:
“Touch us, you can-not progress without
facing up to what’s happened in the past or is
happening in the present.”
I am walking on the Verrazano Bridge now.
I am listening to the premonition of the events.
They say: “Smell us, progress means participating
in the present, in light of what has happened in the
past, such that you generate and act on new
possibilities for the future.”
I am walking on my shadow on the street now.
The path is listening to my footsteps. I am speaking
with the path with all my breath full of silence.
A Look of a Child
In time like this, as we flit between
the explosions at dawn,
our wishes curve over us like a wave,
our hearts beat through the missiles,
our blood shines through the nights,
that’s how heavens see us in the dark,
constellated by the dew of children’s spirits,
we are not lost in noise of a century,
as a look of a child makes you smile.
Fear disappears by breath.
Your hope is not shaped
by the nightmares of the news at 9.
It still leads you across the mists.
A look of a child will refresh your soul.
It will guide you in the dark, its strength
will follow you all the days of your life,
you will dwell in your own childhood miracles,
forever, but put the rifle down, first.
David Dephy is an award-winning American poet, novelist, essayist, and multimedia artist with a Master of Fine Arts degree accredited by Globe Language USA. He is the founder of Poetry Orchestra and American Poetry Intersection, as well as the Poet-in-Residence for Brownstone Poets for 2024-2025. His poem, “A Sense of Purpose,” has been sent to the Moon in 2025 by NASA, Lunar Codex, and Brick Street Poetry. Recognized as a “Literature Luminary” by Bowery Poetry, a “Stellar Poet” by Voices of Poetry, and an “Incomparable Poet” by Statorec, he has also been called “Brilliant Grace” by Headline Poetry & Press and praised for his “Extremely Unique Poetic Voice” by Cultural Daily. In 2017, Dephy was exiled from his native country of Georgia, and was granted immediate and indefinite political asylum in the U.S. His wife and 9-year-old son joined him in the U.S. in 2023, after seven years of exile. He lives and works in New York City.
