The Presence of Silence
A Villanelle
Lost in the moment, in that quietness of absence,
Where thoughts lay stilled, and souls are at peace,
Who dwells serene, in that calmness of silence?
An old man bequeaths his books and his lessons;
A child reads solemnly, crouched on her knees,
Lost in the moment, in that quietness of absence.
When I am done, and left of my presence,
And existence pauses, and comes to a cease,
Who dwells serene, in that calmness of silence?
The books on their shelves, who dwell in their essence,
Alive and yet not, through words and their crease,
Lost in the moment, in that quietness of absence.
If only that moment could be held up an instance,
To linger in stillness, and never release,
Who dwells serene, in that calmness of silence?
Till voices invade to break through in defiance,
The bookshelves reshuffle, as stoic as trees,
Lost in the moment, in that quietness of absence,
Who dwells serene, in that calmness of silence?
© Unni Nambiar (January 26th, 2021)
