Silla Maria Campanini, Author at Writers International Edition

Reveal to Me Your Silences

Your love is whirling
in the restless sea of life,
escaping the past—
betrayed and suspended,
like a shattered star
upon the cliffs of silence.

Tempestuous is the breaking,
in the heavy breath of humid stillness,
upon the greening fields,
veiled by the silent tears of dusk.

Oh, Madness—
with the rhythmic dripping of silence,
you became the restless mirror of time,
in the wavering of love
and its abandonment by the side.

In the trembling of dreams,
mute anguish fades,
little by little,
into the closed shadow,
the dwelling of pain.

Alone and taciturn,
melancholy—
in its turmoil—
wanders through the ages,
weaving patient memories
within the soul.

Yet afar,
the sun rises once more
from its golden womb;
through the fresh clarity of the air,
the sky, with its azure embrace,
embroiders the horizon.

Infinite promises of a song
soar in the breath of destiny.

Within the weave of poetry,
a flower unfurls,
its eternal pulsation:
it is fantasy.

Silla Maria Campanini

About the Poet

Silla Maria Campanini, hailing from the picturesque city of Bologna, Italy, is an internationally acclaimed artist, educator, and cultural visionary. Known for her realistic, metaphysical, and symbolist works, her art transcends boundaries, weaving narratives of peace, harmony, and introspection. As an image educator and painting consultant, Silla has nurtured generations of artists and illuminated public institutions with her expertise. Beyond her artistic achievements, she has been a cornerstone of the Writers Capital International Foundation and the Panorama Festival, uniting a global community of creators through her tireless dedication. Her legacy, celebrated with the Lifetime Achievement Award, stands as a testament to the transformative power of art in bridging humanity.

The Sacred Becoming

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In this time of bitter pauses, of screeching voices and deaths on the roads, the sirens muddy the calm sounds of quiet, like the distant rumbling of an imminent storm. It’s the trill of the phone, a voice that shatters glass, and the calls from the hospital, a black stain that tells stories of intertwined lives, of tears and words, with the insistent weight of pain.

So many withered flowers! Touches of decline and death, they exhale their last scent. Of a dusty life, memory is fading. The back and head bend, slumped to the ground, shattered, to those whose bitterness sinks deep into the soul. The gaze is polished with benevolent compassion, a caress on the heart of understanding.

Beyond the stories of disagreements and the lack of eloquent dialogue, the clock strikes 12. On this day, made of many yesterdays amalgamated together, glimpses of reality lead us to the desire for a tomorrow full of hopes, dreams that manifest themselves.

A sacred becoming, among cleared clouds, piercing snow, and radiant sun, overflowing with abysmal sadness with a note of peace, perhaps the suggestion of a waiting. For even in the storm, the seeds germinate. Hope is nourished in the golden sphere of smiles, in the clasping of hands, in lifting the veil of indifference, cultivating the seeds of love.

Like a stone thrown into a lake of dreams, the clouds disperse, the bewilderment and solitary crosses. In the sky, the seagull flies around the shining sun, promising us to find ourselves in the long-awaited possibilities.

Silla M. Campanini