You want silence so thick it
forms a mist around your quiet self.
Silence that caresses — that,
with wispy breath, coos into
your weary crown and robust root:
settle, rest, it’s alright.
You want silence so peaceful
all songs words poems life
are penned with ease and your
wayward branches can sway into the evening
while the spent sun kisses your angsty bark.
You want silence so forgiving it
clears away the debris
sweeps falling remnants of seasons past.
Silence that covers up faded stories -
also the twigs of fiercely blooming what-ifs.
You want silence so loving it
cuts through the noise
diffuses the cloud of self-doubt
and, wordlessly, turns worry
into growth and possibility.
You want spacious silence
a luscious quiet that lulls you,
wraps itself around you,
the whole you, completely.
*Previously published in The Noisy Water Review 2023
