In a particularly haunting part of the second act, Vladimir and Estragon describe the voices of the dead, which they can both apparently hear. With a series of similes, the two characters together evoke what these voices sound like. Producing a hypnotic effect, this poetic sequence moves the audience to think about the mass destruction and death of the 20th century:
ESTRAGON: All the dead voices.
VLADIMIR: They make a noise like wings.
ESTRAGON: Like leaves.
VLADIMIR: Like sand.
ESTRAGON: Like leaves.
In the play, it's not unusual for either Vladimir or Estragon to bring up something that the other can't understand. Because they think and experience the world quite differently, they frequently have to explain what they're talking about, to make sure they're on the same page. As a result, it feels striking that Vladimir immediately follows Estragon's mention of the dead voices—especially because the audience isn't entirely sure what's being referenced. The men's experiences of the voices are also relatively similar: Vladimir thinks they sound like wings and sand, Estragon thinks they sound like leaves.
The anaphoric construction of the simile sequence gives their conversation a poetic quality. The smooth rhythm makes it seem rehearsed, as though they were delivering a speech or reciting a poem together. This hypnotic flow continues beyond the quoted passage, as Vladimir says that the voices whisper, Estragon says that "They rustle," Vladimir says that "They murmur," and Estragon repeats that "They rustle." As with the similes, Vladimir finds new formulations while Estragon employs the same formulation twice.
After discussing what the voices talk about, in the same smooth and hypnotic manner, they return to descriptions of the voices by way of simile. Vladimir compares the voices to two new sounds, while Estragon sticks to the leaves.
VLADIMIR: They make a noise like feathers.
ESTRAGON: Like leaves.
VLADIMIR: Like ashes.
ESTRAGON: Like leaves.
The two men dwell on these dead voices for quite a while. Initially, the sequence is sparked after they agree that they are "incapable of keeping silent" because they want to avoid having to think and having to hear. It's the dead voices that they don't want to hear. This sheds light on the rest of the play, in which their nonsensical conversations primarily seem aimed at passing the time. While part of their intention is certainly to avoid boredom, the audience now understands that their conversations are also motivated by their fear of silence.
Perhaps to confirm the audience's impression that the men are constantly trying to keep the silence at bay, Beckett stages this fear right away. As the poetic sequence ends, the stage directions indicate a "Long silence." This makes Vladimir desperate. He begs Estragon to "Say something!" When the stage directions indicate yet another "Long silence," he calls out "in anguish": "Say anything at all!" Vladimir's pleas for Estragon to fill the silence can be read as a kind of post-war desperation. Waiting for Godot was written in the late 1940s, when Europe was grappling with the suffering, death, and destruction of World War II and the Holocaust. Both for an audience member in the 1940s and an audience member today, the men's reference to the dead voices would likely bring the immense violence of the 20th century to mind. Even if their description of the voices remains figurative and elusive, this is one of the parts of the play that feels most embedded in its immediate historical context.
Overnight, between the first and second acts, Pozzo somehow becomes blind. Pozzo's blindness becomes a motif in the second act, as the characters use allusions and similes to meditate on his lost eyesight. Through the motif, Beckett explores the challenges caused by taking people's statements at face value as well as the discomfort of living life without witnesses.
Immediately after appearing on stage, Pozzo falls on the ground. He calls out for help as Vladimir and Estragon discuss who he is and whether to help him. While he held quite a bit of power, especially over Lucky, in the first act, he's now completely helpless. Beckett produces an absurd situation as Vladimir and Estragon discuss the pros and cons of helping him rather than doing anything to help him. This can be read as a critique of world leaders in the 20th century, who spent a lot of time deliberating on how to respond to wars and other catastrophes—which often delayed their assistance to people who were suffering. Pozzo's pleas for help are urgent and frequent, but Vladimir and Estragon reveal a comical—as well as concerning—ability to drown them out. They only do something to help him after they've also fallen. Holding him up, they answer his questions about their surroundings. Just as they have to take his claims of blindness at face value, he has no choice but to accept their claims about what they see as fact.
Both Estragon and Pozzo are interested in the role of blindness in ancient mythology. After Pozzo declares that he's blind, Estragon muses that "Perhaps he can see into the future." This is an allusion to the Greek mythological figure Tiresias, a blind seer. Not long after, Pozzo alludes to another mythological figure in a simile: "I woke up one fine day as blind as Fortune." The Roman goddess Fortuna—known as Tyche in Greek mythology—is typically depicted with a blindfold over her eyes. By comparing himself to the goddess, he seems to attempt to reinstate his former authority.
Vladimir becomes fixated on Pozzo's blindness because it reveals just how forgetful everyone around him is. When Vladimir asks Pozzo whether he recognizes them, Pozzo simply responds "I am blind." Not only is he incapable of recognizing them visually, he doesn't remember them at all. This makes Vladimir increasingly uneasy, as the other characters' memory loss and blindness mean that he has no witnesses to confirm his experiences with. While Estragon doesn't remember meeting Pozzo the day before, Vladimir remembers meeting him and wants to know how he became blind from one day to another. After Pozzo and Lucky exit the stage, he says, "I wonder is he really blind." Estragon seems already to have forgotten and responds "Blind? Who?"
When the young boy later enters, Vladimir violently begs him to confirm that he saw them.
VLADIMIR: Tell him . . . (he hesitates) . . . tell him you saw me and that . . . (he hesitates) . . . that you saw me. (Pause. Vladimir advances, the Boy recoils. Vladimir halts, the Boy halts. With sudden violence.) You’re sure you saw me, you won’t come and tell me to-morrow that you never saw me!
Vladimir's "sudden violence" seems informed by the frightening experience of having been forgotten by Pozzo. In fact, Vladimir made the same request—albeit with less intensity—when the boy came the day before, at the end of the first act. His repetition of yesterday's plea reveals the comfort he takes in being seen—and his desperation for witnesses to his life.