The Presence of The Absence

There is a word in Portuguese that has no direct equivalent
in any other language: “saudade.”
It is not just longing. It is more.
It is longing mixed with melancholy,
with expectation,
with tenderness and with a gentle sadness.

It is longing for something that was. . . or maybe never was.
It is absence with the scent of memory.
It is love that did not have time to end, but neither to continue.
It is music that echoes in the void left by someone.

In fado they sing saudade.
In our long silences, saudade is hidden.
In lonely walks,
in lost glances out the window,
in letters never sent.

Saudade does not want to leave.
It doesn’t heal, because it doesn’t hurt completely.
It doesn’t break you, but it doesn’t leave you whole either.
It’s the sweet wound of souls that feel deeply, beyond words.

Carrying saudade within you is proof that you loved,
that you lived,
that you dreamed… even if for a moment.

~ Waves of Life, Facebook, May 4, 2025 ~

singing fado on the steps in Lisbon, May 2022

Exactly three years ago I was walking the Portuguese Coastal Camino to Santiago. During my first evening in Lisbon, I encountered the essence of “saudade” in a young street musician strumming her guitar, perched on stone steps across from our hotel, singing “fado,” the Portuguese equivalent of the “blues.“

Once home, in preparation for writing about my experiences, I heard a Portuguese guide refer to fado as “the presence of absence.” This inspired a poem which was published later that year in 100 Caminos, an annual Chilean anthology celebrating Camino poetry:

. . . now my memory mends and fills
those cracked and empty places
with jasmine perfume and birdsong
blistered heels and sun kissed faces

Saudade captures much of how I’ve been feeling this year. Tired from the moral outrage I’ve felt in response to the incessant displays of blatant evil. . . disappointed with life events that didn’t quite become as I’d imagined. . . I feel “the longing for something that was . . . or maybe never was.”

Disillusionment giving way to letting go. Discernment that comes with age.
The proof that I have loved and lived and dreamed.
The presence of the absence acknowledged and allowed.
And what is asking to emerge next.

Life’s unfolding along its silver thread, invisible until it’s not.

Much love and kindest regards, dear friends. It’s nice to be back after several weeks’ absence.

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Author: Katharine Weinmann

writes award-winning poetry, walks long distances, sees beauty in life’s imperfections and photographs its shimmer

15 thoughts on “The Presence of The Absence”

  2. Hello, Dear Katharine! It is lovely to see your writing back in my inbox! A new word for me— “saudade”—and a helpful one. I, too, am trying to figure out on an ongoing basis how to stay informed and stay grounded. The daily shock effect is so great in our country that it is exhausting. And that is precisely the intention of Trump and his minions. So, I do not give up but keep watching the unfolding—feeling what I feel, determined to stay informed and NOT numb. Choosing to participate in protests, but not everyone. Reaching out to loved ones near and far with renewed love and intention. And paying ever deeper attention to the miracle of spring in the north. Blessings, Ann
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  3. You are such beauty. And I love that word. Surely all of us in life’s third act experience it. Loving being this age, not really wanting to have the past back, but feeling it deeply. I feel it often, living as I do in my childhood home with the ghosts.

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  5. Thank you for this lovely post. It speaks to my soul and will reside in my heart.
    My best to you,
    Debra Kuzbik

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  7. Pingback: Saudade – A Wabi Sabi Life

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