Don’t be afraid to voice it.
—Yes, the irony is there.
You try to model it instead,
But when you craft a silence bubble,
They rush in with words,
And cram every cranny.
The place looks different in their eyes
—Awkward, lazy, wasted space—
Not the serene spot
You strove to shape.

Still, don’t be afraid to voice it.
There are so many things
About yourself you don’t know
But this one thing you do:
You need wild stretches of wordlessness—
Without assignment
Without expectations—
Pausing deadlines and headlines,
Cutting away dead branches,
Taking chances that you may be worthwhile.

You’re afraid to need anything
Afraid to let someone know when you do
Because vulnerability can be abused.
You don’t want to cast a shadow,
To be any color but clear,
To be more than a whisper.
Secretly, you want to be invisible
Because it would let you be
Free to listen to the stream run
And dance among the trees.

But you can’t want that, not really,
They say. We gave you a book
About how to squeeze every drop
Of time out of each day
Like a lemon on a juicer
But you didn’t study it.
Shame on me, you think,
And carry the book, for years and years,
Finally throwing it away, unread.
Then life begins.

With a breath of silence.

Angela Adams