My silence is not my weakness,
It’s a pause, sometimes too long
when I listen to better songs on the radio.
My silence is not really an answer,
because I have been a seeker,
with a bag-full questions and an urge to wander.
My silence is not ignorance,
It’s around my knowledge, wisdom, breathlessness
on the last few pages of the thrilling chapter,
and flowing on in this life like a river.
My silence is sound, sound of many things;
song of birds from the moonlit night,
grin of the green tomato on my porch,
music of the metal spoon in my coffee cup
at five o’clock, whisper of the drizzles.
Sometimes so crisp that they make me dance alone.
My silence is a tale, of words
from the world less known, of genuine smiles,
free fallen water that crossed miles, wild waves of pacific,
and cities that never learned to sleep.
My silence is a celebration, of colors,
of flowers of the spring,
cheeks that know unconditional love,
handmade embroideries on my grand-ma’s Saree, and
the crowns of the woodpeckers that make me want
to try harder once again without fears.
My silence is not about leaving,
it’s about being here, brave and conscious,
striving more, embracing some, and knowing it all.
What do you notice about silence? Do you love it, adore it, or please noises to fight against it?