In Silence

A black and white life

This is the sound of his voice – silence.

 

Most don’t have the ability to choose their own voice, yet he chose the kind whisper of the wind to represent him, the creek of the streaming water to reflect on his thoughts, and the sound of leaves falling from the trees to introduce his pain to the world.

 

There is something about that kind of choice, some sort of uniqueness – his silence always louder than any shout or scream, his stare never empty but full of meaning, his eyes expressing every thought better than any poem or melodic gesture.

 

Few are those who have had the pleasure of looking directly into his eyes, fewer the ones who survived it.

He barely survived the pain himself.

 

Yet he went on, inspiring others with his quietness, changing the world through plain stares and mere gestures.

No one had ever mistaken his true intensions, no one of clear mind and heart.

People respond to his silence in a way they might not have if he actually talked, as if it’s not what or who he is that made him unique, as if it’s his “voice” that’s doing the work for him.

 

The silence was scary yet calming, aggressive yet humble, close and far away at the same time, as if on another plain where everything is possible.

As if every piece of silence is meant for each and every person, any being alive – there was something for everyone.

 

The silence was his blessing, his only refuge, his only true friend, the one constant he could keep and know would always be there, no matter what.

It was something beyond the force of anyone to take.

He felt as safe in his silence as a child hiding inside a blanket on a cold winter night – no one could see nor touch him.

 

The shape of his silence changed to his needs, and he changed to the shape of his silence.

The silence became him, and he became the silence.

Author's Note

Silence is definitely my favorite language.
I wish we could all understand each other in a non verbal way.

Reviews

[Carly****]

i love this poem....`his eyes expressing every thought better than any poem or melodic gesture.` thats my favourite line. Words are so simple but yet cause so much confusion,i totally agree with you. Well done!

[Beautifully Tragic xPoe..]

Silence is a virtue. Tis my favorite language as well. Very good imagery in this story... I can imagine the things you've described. Another clever write.


Rayne