“Silence is a source of great strength.” – Lao Tzu
To those of you who have wished for a flood of words when arid, stony silence was all you got, my poem is dedicated today.
The Strength of Silence
Silence, says he, is golden,
Words are silvern
So speak not, for it’s more precious
That way, the speechless way;
For even in the account book of words,
His mind on profit.
Strong, silent type, he is,
Or so he would have you believe him be;
A man of few words, silvern – remember?
But more often the loud silence
Of hollow ringing as each gold ingot falls on begging ears:
Taciturnity now passes off for fortitude.
When evening fell, when night cut cold
When every fibre of your orphan soul
Was crying out for a flood of words,
Brazen, leaden, wooden even –
His silence (precious but empty, golden but hollow)
Met your expectancy.
And in the darkness, as your heart froze
His icy golden fortress of quiet
Chilled your being even more.
How strong, the silent type,
How motionless, immovable,
How unmoved, unmoving…
The strength of silence harder than rock,
Sharper than scalpel blade,
Colder than arctic tundra,
More efficient executioner than falling axe.
The strength of silence hides weakness,
Crippled emotion, cowardice, egoism.
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