At times, silence is harsh
given because you’ve dismayed
the one or the masses,
haven’t bent to the agreed upon
wishes — whatever they may be.

At times, silence is weary
given because words have fallen away
leaving you lost in darkness
fumbling bone dry amid
the injustices of the world.

Yet, I know a silence
that isn’t a weapon,
nor a secluded woe.
This silence meets me
in tender places,
grief places.
This silence cradles me
in critical spaces,
peaceful places.
This silence
washes over me
like untethered wings
allowing me to see
what lies right here
right now.

In this silence,
golden leaves float,
butterfly wings dance
fireflies glow radiant.
It is here I find —
a hope beyond circumstance,
an outlook of abundance,
a viewpoint of expansion.

Where is such silence?
This silence greets me
when I make space
to slow down, connect
to the in-dwelling
divine thread
who stitches me
with 
graceful murmurs,
“I love you
everything is going to be okay.”

The difficult action
(without fail)
is not being swept
away by busyness, but
to pause and “be”,
to say “yes” to space.