the weight of "g"

The air splits like fraying thread,  

a sound mislaid, heavy and raw.  

Hangs break apart, doubling needlessly.  

Silent letters are not wounds; mending  

them is no kindness, no cure.  

A word is quiet where it aches.  

Let it stay closed, knotted softly—

not broken open, not peeled apart.  

The tongue brawls, strikes the g-club;  

han-ga lands, awkward as fractured glass.  

Pronounce it once and it shatters,  

a wrong echo climbing into the air.  

Words are crafted to bear such silence.  

One misstep could unstring their weight,  

tip balance, distort the shape of thought.  

Say it whole, or leave it unspoken.