If you knock, will there be an answer,
Or only silence that grows like a cancer,
A quiet so dark it absorbs all that is light,
And takes from you what once felt right,
Leaving only an empty and bottomless hole,
The kind that seems to deepen the soul,
And in this depth we see our own self,
At first alone and scared, but then surrounded by wealth,
Of riches that come not in paper or coin,
But in peace once sought when we would join.
And if this calm is to become our being,
Then only a knock will bring our true healing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem