We mourn the silence that stayed when words withdrew,
when voices tired of explaining themselves.
It did not arrive empty—
it came full of what could not be said.
Silence held the weight of unanswered questions,
the pause after loss,
the breath taken before acceptance.
It was never absence, only depth.
Once, speech believed it could heal everything,
that clarity lived in sound.
But silence learned otherwise—
that some truths bruise when spoken
and mend only when left untouched.
It stood beside grief without interruption,
listened without correcting,
and offered refuge
when language became too small.
In silence, pride loosened its grip,
desire softened its demands,
and the heart found room
to simply be, not prove.
Now we lay this silence gently to rest,
not because it failed us,
but because it taught us
how to endure without noise.
This elegy honors what silence gave—
patience without instruction,
comfort without promise,
and wisdom that spoke
only after we learned how to listen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem