Daarkin,
What a compelling world you create! I get quite caught up in the atmospherics of this poem, the sense of threat and heroics, the howling nightscape.
There are lovely lines here. You know I already like “the silence wending out alone” – your inspiration line, and I love your choice to repeat it. I also admire the imagery of “wings and talons, lethal and tight,” “lumbering gait and armored scale” and the doe exploding from the meadow. Those animal descriptions are some of your best.
My favorite turn in the poem is when the silence begins to scream in the third stanza. Then I know this is a silence fraught with tension and danger. You give silence a new meaning there.
I do have questions about the relationship of the silence and the “she” of the poem. Is she the silence? Or does she enter into it? Sometimes it seems to me that “she” is the silence personified. Other times it seems like the silence is a kind of force that emanates from her. Still other times, it seems like the silence is something she breaks. Nothing quite makes the relationship click in my mind so that I feel I know for sure, even on an intuitive level.
I also feel that, throughout the poem, your character is an emblem of something. She is a figure, a legend. But I never quite know why or what the legend is composed of. Does that make sense? There is a fight here, but what is the fight? Can you un-emblemize some of the language? Or can you make the emblem more exact?
These are big demands, I know!
Ultimately what I’m saying is: I don’t want to feel at arm’s length from this mythology – and sometimes I do.
Along those lines, think of words you use that have an automatic symbolic weight – words like “light,” “dark,” “world,” “legend” – and ask if they are truly evoking this world or more labeling it. Again I’d call your attention to the beauty and precision of your animal descriptions, which I mentioned above. To me, those are descriptions that evoke exquisitely.
Finally, your rhymes give the poem that ancient and rhythmic feel, which I admire, but the rhyme scheme is a little problematic for me because it is irregular. For instance, the first stanza does not follow a scheme until the last four lines, while the second stanza follows A B A A C C D D A and the third stanza a different pattern, etc. At times I feel you reaching for a rhyme and letting an awkward or uninspired phrase sneak in to get you to it (an example: in the first stanza, adding “bright” after “shining” which really evokes that brightness, making the “bright” redundant… or, in the second stanza, the phrase “she does fight” which seems strained). One way to keep the power of the rhyme without straining the poem is to bury the rhymes internally in the lines. That way you can get great echoes of sound without cuing your reader to look for a scheme and without forcing yourself to twist language awkwardly for a rhyme. Something to try perhaps.
Well, Daarkin, I think I have rambled long enough! Thank you for sharing this piece. I hope you don’t mind my being critical of some aspects of this poem, but you seem like someone looking to push yourself. Keep in mind that these are just my opinions, full of my own particular poetic biases, and should be taken, always, with a healthy dose of salt. 
K
Thank you so much for the feedback. In order know the answer to the identity of the silence look to the very last line. Darkkin of Lore and Legend. The she isn't the silence, but a Darkkin, a shifter, who has hidden in the shadows away from the eyes of the world. The silence is the fading belief of embittered souls and more tangibly an element of void and emptiness that has the ability to fracture the true songs of the Darkkin. This poem is spinning out of almost 10,000 years of history, two worlds, and way too much folklore.
The context is taken from the silence of the Darkkin Tribe among mortals, they hide their faces, deny their wings, stifle the songs, and allow the world to pass by, watching as it falls to ruin. They deny their instincts, the need to render aid to the fallen and oppressed. The Silence, the Dark, the Void are all inextricably linked and bound to the Darkkin, for since the founding of their race they have battled against it. They were born of the silence, they broke it open and filled the Void with their songs. Earth. Air. Water. Fire. Spirit. Such were the original Five.
The Darkkin, a name translated from Elvish meaning, Darkest Kindred. They are the legends. They are dragons. The secrets are essential for survival, but the silence its suffocating what remaining magic they possess. Like all great powers, for a time they held power, respect, and loyal support, but time changes everything. Shadows rise and old foes creep in, watching for the moment to strike.
The Dark, the original foe of the Darkkin found it in superstition and fear. The hunters of the stars, the Darkkin, became the hunted. The families fled and went into hiding. Their legends became entwined and strangled by traitorous retellings. They became the monsters, not the protectors they truly were. The warrior Darkkin became silent, disappearing among the mortals. The Darkkin were cunning, knowing how to mimic those around them, the whispers of their origins lingered. It was their only hope. But the Dark mounted a vendetta against the clans, passing through life with their secret pressed tightly to their hearts. One by one, they were captured, imprisoned, or killed. It was an endeavor that devoured lifetimes, and the Dark was very, very patient.
Now all that remains is the she of the poem and the rest of her Tribe concealed across the British Isles, a last stronghold of the Darkkin. She is Isabella Miri Moncreiffe, the first Darkkin to complete a shift since 1602. She is but the first of her generation to do so. No longer will she hold against the silence, but fight against it. She is the first to fly, to know the songs in all their glory, to feel the heat of an elemental flame, to truly know hope. She keeps her secret, but she doesn't hide it away in shame, she has taken a stand. She is The Traveller, a Seeker of the Darkkin.
Such is the struggle within the poem, within the silence and among the secrets. Again, thank you very much for the feedback, it helps immensely. 
- Darkkin, the Tedious
