** A Musical Number (though without a tune, regretfully) **
YOUNG JACK:
** How can I stand his silence?
How can I reply to the unasked question?
How can I know which way the wind blows,
in his silence?
His silence.
His hands in his pockets,
His face toward the ground.
His eyes dart up but they don't look around.
They are focused on me.
My heart skips a beat,
But even I look away.
The day is too bright.
You shuffle your feet in the gravel.
You look down at the toes of your boots.
Something there on the ground must amaze you,
or perhaps something deep inside.
The sky welcomes me, its clear blue winds
Are my brothers. The sun is my beautiful
Mother. The cloud that floats by is my friend.
But even with their promise of freedom,
even with their laughter and glee,
Something in my life is missing.
Tell me, oh what could it be?
How can I stand his silence?
My heart yearns for his heart to be free.
How can I know which way the wind blows,
In his silence?
His silence.
In the mirror I see his reflection.
And still he seems quite content
To look down at the ground, but not look around.
To close his eyes and pretend not to see
The thing which I most want him to see... me.
My hearts starts to flutter when I think that he might.
My breath is caught in my throat.
The situation grows stranger and stranger,
But none here is more strange than he.
How can I stand his silence?
It burns such awareness within me.
How can I know which way the wind blows
in his silence?
His silence.**