--- My Silence ---

By John Herlihy

Could it be that we have forgotten silence,

Only to remember as a form of compliance?

When we hear it, we think we know what it is,

Immersed there in still waters without any fizz.

A silence that hovers around mountain peaks,

A silence that offers what my solitude seeks.

Not the silence of a church arranged in rows,

Nor the silence of a cloister monks impose.

Not silence of predawn before day awakes,

Nor the silence of caves or mountain lakes.

Neither quiet silence, nor comforting silence,

Pre-arranged within us as a form of reliance.

I am speaking of silence that I find myself in,

A silence so profound, it seems as next of kin.

The silence held in repose of unsounded bells,

A silence in the shadowy depths of deep wells.

A silence free of worry that helps me compose,

A silence of a lone spirit that listens and knows.

My silence keeps my promises and tells no lies,

My voice is silent, but poems pour from my eyes.

My silence will never betray you, to preserve trust,

To keep silent while all others shout, this we must.

In the shadows of the night, the robin awaits dawn,

Filled with the silence of centuries, quiet as a fawn.

All nature stands in hush, in silence the day to meet,

My silence finds greater silence, all of nature to greet.

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(c) John Herlihy 27 November 2018