SOPHIA HASHEMI

The Silent Pulse

Screenprint collage mounted on panel (105 printed layers)
24 x 80 x 1½ in.
2026

The house hums when it thinks no one is listening,
The trees exhale slowly, shadows begin positioning.
All that was dark listened, not for language, but for tremor,
As if the ground itself were trained, as so to remember.

Silhouettes embedded in snow like a tomb,
Stretch and dissolve, as craters on the moon.
Every shadow knows its source, but refuses to tell,
Drifting through spaces no mind can compel.

Sometimes I hear myself in the hush of the night,
Threading the forest, beyond form or sight.
Solitude becomes space, and space becomes mind,
Awareness emerges as something enshrined.

Time bends sideways, moments unravel and sway,
The horizon folds inward, edges dissolve into gray.
A voice without sound, a thought without word,
The dark hums deeper than anything heard.

The unknown becomes presence, fragile yet whole,
Until I promised to stay lost and relinquish control.
Within this presence, within this time,
The silence had a pulse and it was mine.