Silent Intimacy
And so the silence lingers still—
a heavy fog upon the morning grass,
where once the dew of trust would sparkle,
now only mist conceals what’s left unsaid.
Time folds itself around this quiet,
each tick a soft reminder
that moments do not wait for courage,
nor does the heart forgive delay.
In the spaces between our eyes,
the unsaid words hover like autumn leaves,
fluttering — yet never falling —
caught in the grasp of an invisible wind.
How strange this closeness,
where breath touches breath,
yet voices fail to rise—
as if the very air itself conspires
to keep us strangers to each other’s souls.
Is it fear that holds your silence fast?
Or pride, like stone,
that no hand dares to carve away?
Or pain—silent, cold, and waiting—
wrapped tightly in the shadows of old wounds?
If only one of us could break first,
like a bird daring to sing before the dawn,
to fill the hollow spaces with sound—
a song of fragile hope,
a plea for healing,
a call to love again.
But silence is a fortress,
and walls rise higher with each passing day,
until all that’s left are echoes
of what was never said,
of the warmth never given.
Yet beneath this quiet,
a river runs—deep and restless—
carrying with it the yearning
to find the shore of understanding,
to wash away the dust of distance,
to renew the soil of us.
And in that river’s flow,
there is a promise:
that even silence, heavy as it seems,
can break,
can part,
can be transformed—
by a word, a look, a touch,
by the gentle courage of two hearts
willing to speak their truth.
So let us dare to speak—
to dismantle this silence stone by stone,
to build again with words that heal,
to weave new threads of trust,
to open wide the doors of presence,
and let love flood back in—
warm and bright,
like sunlight spilling over a long-closed window.
For life is too brief a journey—
too precious a flame—
to spend wandering lost in silence,
when all that’s needed is the sound
of two voices meeting in the quiet,
softly, tenderly, finally whole.
No comments:
Post a Comment