Uncomfortable, so I fill it.
Noise becomes the status quo.
Yet it seeps through, like water does a levee.
The quiet is more than I can bear.
The quiet is medication for which I would rather not…
The salve I need, but do not want.
For in the quiet, there is healing.
Which means admission of sickness.
Admission of…being human.
So I sit in the silence.
Wholeness has begun.
[Poem #24. Image by Per Ola Wiberg via Flickr and a Creative Commons License.]
ps. This song will help.