Silenced by Word

Numina  

by Charló Camilleri,

published by Horizons, 2024

In one of his poems, found in his early work titled Memory rose into threshold speech, Paul Celan writes a verse which translates to something along the lines of, “the pendulum of love swings between always and never.”

This is not to say that Fr Charló Camilleri, in this marvellous work of poetry, specifically explores the themes of ‘love’ or ‘time’ as he did in his first collection Tattwaġġi (2016). Rather, what brought me to recall Celan when reading Numina was the way its author coasts, in a pendulum kind of fashion, between the always (the all) and the never (the nothing), without ever halting upon either one. 

Often, as one reads on, especially through poems the likes of numen mentis, aeiou, or Fid-dlam tal-lejl sewdien..., one almost senses a movement (a quantum oscillating dance) between the bounteous abyss of silence and the diversity of speech, which emerges and ultimately returns to silence, without pause.

A verse like, “Fuklar il-fidi jnemnem għoddu mitfi,” captures the infinitude that lurks latently within a desert-like darkness, as the word “għoddu” in Maltese poignantly hints at a reality that ‘seems’, but ‘isn’t.’

Celan himself similarly affirmed poetry to have this distinct capacity – namely, to be pregnant with a meaning that soars beyond Word, and that often emerges from within the ‘in-between’ silences of speech.

In his now famous Buchner-Prize discourse, he described the poem as “actualised language, set free under the sign of a radical individuation, which at the same time stays mindful of the limits drawn by language, the possibilities opened by language”.

This play between ‘limit’ and ‘possibility’ can be clearly seen in Celan in poems the likes of What Sews..., which ends with the following verses:

A word, with all of its green,

enters itself, transplants itself

follow it

What Sews, in itself, is far too complex for a satisfactory discussion here, however, similar to the poem Fid-dlam tal-lejl sewdien, it attempts a (more explicit) gymnastics of language, in which Word, this time, is expressly seen as turning upon itself and pointing beyond (follow it).

In both verses, a similar reality is summoned – lostness, heaviness, thirst

Camilleri engages in a similar grapple when he writes verses the likes of, “b’wens fl-istennija tat-tweġiba nieżla mis-sema...”, or “inħarsu fil-vojt nitliegħbu bejn mistoqsija u oħra”.

On both these occasions, the poet alludes to a metaxu of anticipation (b’wens fl’istennija) and void (inħarsu fil-vojt), visually represented in the poem through long empty spaces. The constant anticlimactic play points beyond the text and invites the reader to look to a reality that is probably, if anywhere, to be found infinitely within.

In this sense, both Celan and Camilleri exploit the limits of tangibility, only the latter seems to be more ornamental in his approach.

In Numina, the author coasts, in a pendulum kind of fashion, between the always (the all) and the never (the nothing). Photo: Shuterstock.com

Whereas Celan tends towards being more dry and terse in his poetry, Camilleri, on many occasions, makes use of very vivid words and imagery. This heaviness of language is captured, par excellence, in a verse the likes of, “għajjiena mejta fi vjaġġ skabruż u mtaqqal b’tewdin ta’ elf dubju enigmatiku daqs l-isfineġ tal-Eġittu”.

This lies in stark contrast to Celan who, in a verse that captures a very similar feel, uses much less vocabulary, as can be seen in the poem, Dumb Autumn Smells, “a strange lostness was palpably present, almost”. In both verses, a similar reality is summoned – lostness, heaviness, thirst – and yet, both poets succeed at doing so differently. Both succeed in silencing Word through word; what differs is the means.

Thus, in all this, the truth is unmasked as being everything-but – and yet, it is.  Words are proven to be fruitless – to a degree – and yet, this degree often requires Word to be discerned. Together with Numina’s author, I conclude by asking,

min inti li ħriġt kull lejl iżżurni fil-ħolm li jinbet mir-rqad tqil u fond iddur fl-sqaqien tal-ħsibijiet imrekkna ġo moħħi għajjien?

Who are you who emerge every night visiting me in dreams

born from deep and heavy sleep

wandering through the alleys

of thoughts entangled in my weary mind?

Reading Numina can help give us a glimpse of the face beyond every face – the ‘who’ (min inti?), that is ever-and-never more.

Mariana Debono, a philosophy PhD candidate, is a poet and writer.