Silence and Sins, by Martin Cid

Silence and Sins, by Martin Cid

Silence, the essence of a good tragedy and the artery of the best of comedies… silence for the things we can ever tell, silence for things we shouldn’t have told and, finally, silence for the things we should tell.

Silence and sins, by Martin Cid

Silence and sins, by Martin Cid

‘No words’ when someone has seen something awesome and ‘no words’ for the shame of the Humankind. There is a dark way to get this sound, a way of understanding and a way of innocence, a way of greed and a way to forgive your own sins. ‘Shut up’, bad boy… ‘silence’ and ‘listen’ to the wiser man who cannot talk anymore. Silence for the confessors and silence for the crimes that we have never committed. Silence for the death and silence for this life is now growing. No, don’t tell him about suicides and assassinations, don’t tell that boy the world is cruel and has nonsense, don’t tell him that we all are guilty of every possible sin, of every death and every crying. Keep on silent, my friend, keep on moving and keep on quiet, again and again, because your sins are mine and mine are yours. It’s time for the brotherhood confession; it’s time to forgive us for living and die with no ways, silent after silent again and again.

Try to tell her the truth, try to tell her we are now guiltier than yesterday because we kept on silent one more day, more than a year, one year more than a life, one life more than reincarnations of the fake god we adored someday and now we repudiate. We forgot those sins so fast; there was not sound behind them. We just thought about other stupid things and, like smoke, the horrible sin had gone. Fakes and guiltiness, so innocent as the smiling boy you have in your arms now. You will teach him how to grow, how to live… how to die and, of course, how to sin. Living sin after sin and forgiving them and, once more, beginning again. Where was the rhythm of your expectations? Where was the youth of your thinking? Where is our sincerity now? Now I am looking at the deepest sea of my empty soul. Who was I? Who would I like to be? Your father? Your son? Or maybe simply nothing… or simply nobody? I am now, writing in the sky the truth of my empty sins, the truth of my full life of plenty silences.

The wind is running now… and I forgot my sins again.

Silence, silence… silence and nothing more.

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View Comments (2)
  • oh, gee, what a beautiful piece, martin – beautiful and powerful – moving…!

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