Dave Bonta's "Stilled" is only a few lines long, but it leaves a lot of room to think. The speaker describes a state of being "done," quiet in the way the sea goes quiet when a great calm settles over it. It's not clear whether this is peace, exhaustion, or something closer to surrender, and that uncertainty is part of what makes the poem interesting.
The second stanza turns to words, and to a worry. The speaker wonders what words could "break" this stillness, and whether they would see those words as enemies. That suggests the calm is fragile. Speech, advice, or even a person's own thoughts might shatter it, and the speaker already feels protective, almost defensive. The mood is hushed and a little wary. The calm feels earned, or at least needed, but it also seems like something that could be lost the moment someone speaks. Questions replace statements, so the poem ends with a held breath rather than an answer.