Listening to the Silence

If words had the ability to forecast one´s future, then this poem would have been my personal fortune-teller. Five years ago, the lines flowed out, in a flash, when I should have worked on finalising a chapter of my PhD. Only now, it occcurs to me how meaningful these words acutally are. The poem foreshadows the feels of my unconscious world - and thus was a herald of my future. A time long ago, if I had dared to listen... to the words, to the silence.

20250315_Razal_Listening to the Silence

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Silence.

I am sitting on a rock. A rock in the middle of nowhere.

Listen.

The wind is whispering. The leaves on the trees – reddish colours in the evening sun – are rustling. The sky is silent but soft-pink. Cumulus clouds are passing by in swaths. Like that flock of birds yelling at the vanishing yellow of the evening sun.

Feel.

The strength of that rock. Steadily standing there. A monument braving the elements – sun and snow, wind and water. Unsteadily standing there, not so brave anymore when just a few ten thousands of years have passed by. Wearing the rock down, letting it crumble. Weathered. Away.

See.

The firmness of this rock is my confidence. A solid soul on stable soil. Rooted like those golden trees, and nurtured by the nutrients of a seemingly innocent childhood. Growing up, my confidence spread its wings – out to the world. Facing the sun. Strong! Oh, it learnt how to fly. Crossing miles and oceans to far-away lands.

Years ago.

Now, I cannot sit still on that rock anymore. The rock – my confidence has crumbled. Weathered. The red reddish leaves have fallen to the ground. Treetops empty. The sky is black, and the birds flown. Away.

Stand up.

Time has come. To chase the leaves and to follow the birds. To find a new rock.

Because – I still enjoy listening to the silence.

The rocky foreshore of Lake Manapouri at Shallow Bay, Aotearoa New Zealand, May 2021.