-- The Sound of Silence --

John Herlihy

We often speak of the sound of silence,

Without really knowing what we mean.

Silence after all echoes as pure silence,

Yet some silence does as sound seem.

The secret lies quietly in the visuals,

With movement unburdened by sound.

To behold worthy sights as silent vigils,

Let’s think on it and take a look around.

We treasure the enchantment of snow,

Falling so peacefully on a winter’s night.

Not a speck of sound, no wind did blow,

The event utterly silent in the afterlight.

Daytime shadows move as quiet as mice,

They creep along stealthily on cat’s paws.

The mercy of their shade their only spice,

Otherwise, they go against nature’s laws.

Those mighty glaciers do creep and groan,

They move ever so slowly in eons of time.

Their movement infinitesimal as they moan,

Yet when they melt, their silence is sublime.

Forget not the stillness when icicles melt,

As dew drops, an icicle falls to the ground.

In its dying, the death of winter surely felt,

No protest or cry, only silence profound.

The first light emits no whisper of breath,

Its daily arrival marks the end of the night.

The coming of dawn in the silence of death,

No whisper or sound, only glorious light.

Where is the roar of battle in day’s end,

Twilight’s scarlet blood on the battlefield?

To seep in the horizon the day to upend,

In silence, the day to the night doth yield.

Those puffy white pillow clouds overhead,

We watch them moving as they make way.

Such mighty mountains with dewy mist fed,

A thunderous silence is all they have to say.

With such examples, I have made my point.

Would that I could have kept silent instead.

Still, my verses strive such silence to anoint,

Born in silence and in silence should be read.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Thursday 13 January 2022