Dan Enache | + Follow Poet |
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In the silence of dreams, where hope seeks a place

In the silence of dreams, where hope seeks a place,
It's hard to keep faith, especially when time passes slowly,
For hope does not depend on fleeting joys,
And there is the dream of loneliness at absolute midnight.
I have given up on faith in the present of an unknown future,
Which will surely surprise us with unforeseen twists,
Hope becomes harder when it cannot come from predictions,
Nor from wishes. Stop your hesitations and seek answers.
The young ask the old about hope. What will you tell them?
At least tell them what you tell yourself in the silence of thought,
For we have not matched our lives with the places that received us,
The forests are destroyed, the fields eroded, the streams polluted.
Hope to belong to your place through deep knowledge,
Of what it is and what no other place can be, a unique realm,
And through your care for it, as for no other place,
This place where you belong, though it is not entirely yours.
Know it through other neighbors who are close to you in it:
The old, sick, and poor man, who comes like a heron to fish,
The fish in the stream and the heron that fishes like a human,
The birds singing in the trees in the silence of the fisherman and heron.
The trees that hold the land on which they stand,
As we too must hold it, or else perish.
This knowledge cannot be taken by power or wealth,
It will close your ears to the demands of the powerful and wealthy.
Respond with the knowledge of those who are here,
And how to be here with them. Through this knowledge,
Make the sense you need. Through it stand
In the dignity of common sense, whatever may come.
Speak to your fellows as your place has taught you,
As it has spoken to you in whispers and echoes of old.
Speak the dialect as your old compatriots did,
Before they had ever heard a radio or other noise.
Speak publicly what cannot be taught or learned,
Listen quietly, in silence, to the voices rising from pages
And from your own heart. Be still and listen to the voices
That belong to the riverbanks, trees, and open fields.
There are songs and words that belong to this place,
By which it speaks for itself and to no one else.
Place your hope on the ground beneath your feet,
Let your hope for Heaven rest on this soil.
Let it be illuminated by the light that falls freely after the night
Of darkness and our ignorance and madness.
Let it also be illuminated by the light within you, the light of imagination,
Through which you see the likeness of people in other places to yourself.
It invariably illuminates the need for care toward other people,
Other creatures, in other places, as you would ask for care
For your place and for yourself. No place is better
Than the whole world. The world is no better than its places.
Places are only as good as their people,
As long as people continue in them. When people darken
The light within them, the world itself darkens entirely.

Copyright © Dan Enache | Year Posted 2025

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