Passer-by, these are words...

Passer-by, these are words. But instead of reading
I want you to listen: to this frail
Voice like that of letters eaten by grass.

Lend an ear, hear first of all the happy bee
Foraging in our almost rubbed-out names.
It flits between two sprays of leaves,
Carrying the sound of branches that are real
To those that filigree the still unseen.

Then know an even fainter sound, and let it be
The endless murmuring of all our shades.
Their whisper rises from beneath the stones
To fuse into a single heat with that blind
Light you are as yet, who can still gaze.

May your listening be good! Silence
Is a threshold where a twig breaks in your hand,
Imperceptibly, as you attempt to disengage
A name upon a stone:

And so our absent names untangle your alarms.
And for you who move away, pensively,
Here becomes there without ceasing to be.

This poem was written by Yves Bonnefoy. In a note before the poem, the Poetry 180 website states that "this poem is spoken by an epitaph - words on a tombstone. In the first and second lines, the author demands that the reader open his or her ears and listen carefully to the surrounding sounds. These are my favorite lines because instead of using imagery to evoke pictures in one's mind, Bonnefoy uses words to introduce another sense: hearing. The reader can actually hear the "happy bee," the "voice like that of letters eaten by grass," and the "sound of branches." Once one reads the first two lines, he or she does as the speaker commands and listens to the words being read.
The speaker of this poem is dead and in his or her grave. But there is a message being sent out to the passer-by. This message is to listen! Silence is a way to understand more in the world. By listening, one can perceive things differently and notice the world around him or her.
I really enjoyed reading this poem - and listening to those sounds - and I hope you do too!