Burning in silence

Autumn
those that know what burning is
when leaves fall, some leaves
when these leaves burn
leaving everything cold
and useless

those who know silence
not the silence of and after midnight
but daytime silence, ritual silence
silence of life, a house folded on itself
in silence
where dust settles silently too on open spaces

those who know what burns
the burning of dry leaves, those that were wet once
having soaked in memories along their veins
and now burn shamelessly
in silence
in front and behind of those who know silence

not the silence of night but afternoon silence
single and collected silence
when tears would have embarrassed
outside a house in silence
in front of those who know what burns
in silence

it ends only in burning
not in the consummation of silence
but in its dread, with its violence
not the silence of night but mid morning
and late afternoon and this burning in silence
and this is also called life