In The Silence Listening
In the quiet chambers of empathy,
Where understanding blooms like a fragile flower,
I tread softly, my footsteps hushed,
Seeking to grasp the unspoken whispers.
No grand proclamations, no eloquent speeches,
Just a heart open wide, arms outstretched,
To catch the fragments of another's soul,
As they spill forth, raw and unfiltered.
I weave patience into my bones,
A tapestry of compassion stitched with care,
For sometimes understanding is not a lightning bolt,
But a slow, steady rain that nurtures parched earth.
I hold space for the tangled threads of pain,
The knotted memories, the frayed edges of hope,
And I listen — truly listen — without interruption,
As if the universe itself were whispering secrets.
Yet, there are moments when my own storms rage,
When understanding slips through my fingers,
And I grapple with the weight of my limitations,
Yearning to bridge the chasm between hearts.
But still, I persist, for in the quietude of trying,
I find solace — a fragile bridge of connection,
Spanning across the vast expanse of human experience,
A testament to our shared fragility and resilience.
So, let us be understanding without fanfare,
Without accolades or applause, but simply because,
In the silence of listening, we discover our kinship,
And the world becomes a softer, kinder place.
Copyright © Nicholas Reta | Year Posted 2024
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