Silence

By Nicola Rakuljic


Silence.


The deafening roar of nothing.

The inescapable void.


The breath that comes after a sentence,

where you hesitate for just a second,

before continuing on with your conversation.


The buzzing of noise in your ears,

the steady movement as you breathe,

the flicker of thoughts.


Wind rustling leaves.

Fabric brushing against itself.

A toe tapping along a rhythm.

Shoes scuffing along the ground.

A chair screeching as it is pulled out.

The tick of a clock’s hands.


Is that silence?



Silence.


The deafening roar of something,

some inescapable void of sound that

isn’t noise.


Hesitation,

breathing,

a lull in a conversation.


Rustling, brushing, tapping.

Scuffing, screeching, ticking.


Silence?



Silence.



That undefinable moment,

when everything in the world

stops.


When there’s nothing

and everything.


A cacophony of noise,

and yet it is tranquil.


Silence.


Silence.



Is it ever truly silent?

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