I like to listen to slam poetry on occasion and I thought this one was particularly good.
Smith portrays silence as a very negative thing. Of course it can be beautiful and necessary too. Billy Collins reminds us of many silences we may never consider. I like the end when silence piles up like snow.
There is the sudden silence of the crowd
above a player not moving on the field,
and the silence of the orchid.
The silence of the falling vase
before it strikes the floor,
the silence of the belt when it is not striking the child.
The stillness of the cup and the water in it,
the silence of the moon
and the quiet of the day far from the roar of the sun.
The silence when I hold you to my chest,
the silence of the window above us,
and the silence when you rise and turn away.
And there is the silence of this morning
which I have broken with my pen,
a silence that had piled up all night
like snow falling in the darkness of the house—
the silence before I wrote a word
and the poorer silence now.
Source: Poetry (April 2005).