Poetry

Silence

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A silent house sat there, full of people who did not hear each other, so the house was silent

It also felt empty, as empty as an empty glass which longed to quench the thirst of the thirsty

Thirsty for someone to hear them, to listen

These people, each one of them was like a boat in the wide-open sea

Tossing around and thirsty

Till one day they alighted on the shores of an unknown land

A desert it was, once you crossed over the mountain near the sea

There, under the blazing sun and in the golden sands

A single flower was blooming in the desert

Something happened, a dazzling light, it felt like the flower

Was a candle burning brightly

Or was the flower like a woman dancing to her own music, unheard by others

Ah ha! So, silence is because we all have our own music? Which only we hear?

A clear mirror where we see ourselves and there we remain, silent, with ourselves

Like a woman who sees her reflection in a clear pond, no ripples, just still

Is stillness silent? No sound, no movement

Just silence and stillness

This music of ourselves, once we find it, we can hear, even the silence of another

Because that is their music

In wedlock, they bond you with a knot made of silk

Isn’t that strange? Bonded with a knot! But they do.

Two people committed to each other for life, they should have held hands

But there is a silken knot

And then they make a house, of bricks

Which is silent

And soon the laughter of children echoes through those bricks, sun baked

A brick, sun baked has the fossil of a single flower

The people in the house, they soon begin to hear each other, to listen

The single flower has powers you see

And like the golden loops that link up and make a chain

The silent music bonds them all, together

Is a chain a knot, a long string of knots? One gold, the other silk

A coffin is silent too

What music plays there? Who?

Is that where some of us finally listen to ourselves?

The burial, under a cold, starless rainy night

An old man walked slowly on the road and stopped to feed the skinny dog who was shivering on the street

There is music everywhere, if only we could hear.

Mita Nangia Goswami

Mita Nangia Goswami is an educationist and development professional currently working as an Education for Sustainable Development Expert for the Swiss Agency for Development and Cooperation in Mongolia. She is married to Madhuryya and has two children, a daughter Prarthana and a son, Prannoy. Mita loves to read, listen to music, be in nature, cook, watch films, potter around the house and honest conversations.

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