Poetry – Stillness Awaits

2025-06-20

Without the Need to Fall

I wasn’t searching.
Not for love,
not for saving,
not for someone to make sense of the noise.

I had made peace with the quiet.
The kind that doesn’t ache anymore—
just hums low in the bones,
like the sound of wind through old trees.

I needed nothing.
No fixing.
No thrill.
No fireworks to wake me up.
I was already awake.
Already whole.

And then…
there you were.

No entrance music.
No grand design.
You didn’t fill a void—
you revealed a room I didn’t know was there.

You didn’t complete me.
You just made me softer.
Wider.
Still.

You didn’t rush in.
You appeared.
Like the last line of a poem
that had been writing itself
since before I was born.

I didn’t fall in love with you—
because there was nothing to fall into.
You were already there.
In the air.
In the stillness between my thoughts.
In the calm I had built around myself.

And yet somehow—
you fit.
Not as a missing piece,
but as a secret layer
beneath everything I thought I understood.

So no,
I never fell in love with you.
I met you
when I was already standing.
Already whole.
Already free.

And that’s what made it real.
You were not what I needed.
You were what I never knew
was possible
once I needed nothing.

2025-06-18

Stacks of Resentment

Resentment does not thunder in—
It tiptoes in on quiet sighs,
A single word left unexplained,
A glance that looked away, not wise.

It starts as something barely there,
A flicker lost behind the eyes—
A moment when we needed care
But silence answered hurt with lies.

It stacks, not loud, but layer-thin:
A favor missed, a thought unheard,
A burden carried once again
Without the grace of kindest word.

Each layer pressed, not smoothed or seen,
Becomes a brick without release.
The wall builds up, emotion-dense,
And blocks the path to inner peace.

Resentment is not rage, not fire—
It’s cooler than the surface shows.
It is the weight of unmet needs,
The ache of what one never knows.

But pause—breathe in, and speak it out.
Unstack the pain with gentle hands.
Let anger name its softer core,
And truth arise where silence stands.

For when we seek to understand
The roots that tangled in the past,
We find resentment starts to melt—
And love, at last, can hold us fast.

2025-04-18

Not a Disability, But a Ripple of Light

In a world built on standards and norms, we often mistake difference for deficiency.
We label what doesn’t conform as broken, what doesn’t perform the same as less than. And in doing so, we miss something sacred—something extraordinary.

There are people among us who experience life in ways most never will.
Whether through physical, neurological, or developmental differences, their path is not a limitation—it’s a variation of human brilliance.
It’s a vantage point that reveals layers of the world that most of us have forgotten to feel.

We call it disability.
But what if it’s actually a higher form of awareness?
A refined perception that reaches beyond the physical senses.
An inward journey that unlocks deeper truths.
A light that glows not in the eyes, but in the soul.

When someone lives with what society calls a disability, their very existence sends out ripples.
These ripples are not always loud.
They are often quiet, unspoken, felt more than seen.
But they reach far—into families, friendships, communities, and strangers alike.
They awaken something.

They show us what patience really looks like.
They teach us presence.
They remind us that communication is more than words, and intelligence is more than logic.
They allow us to see ourselves—our assumptions, our pace, our priorities—from a clearer lens.

The experience of living differently does not end within the individual.
It touches others.
It softens others.
It enlightens others.

It’s a ripple that expands outward, inviting us all to slow down and feel what lies beneath the surface of human life.
Not everything can be understood through sight, or solved with sound, or measured with speed.
Sometimes, the most profound wisdom comes from stillness—from sensing, intuiting, and connecting from within.

So no, it is not a disability.
It is an offering.
A sacred pulse through the waters of humanity.
A reminder that our value has never been in how we perform… but in how we presence.

And when we truly see that—
we no longer just accommodate differences.
We revere them.

2025-01-312025-01-31

Mirrors of the Soul

In the glass of the world we find,
Echoes of our own state of mind.
The good we see in others’ deeds,
Reflects the bounty of our seeds.

A harsh word cast in stony throws,
Reveals where a shadowed heart goes.
But kindness, like a river, flows
From the source where true goodness grows.

In the eyes of another’s plight,
What we see in that dimmed light,
Is the lens of our own insight,
Coloring the dark and bright.

If love is what we choose to share,
We find love waiting everywhere.
Yet if our thoughts breed only fear,
It’s fear that whispers back so clear.

So let us tend with care our plot,
Planting grace, forgetting not—
The world’s a mirror, subtly wrought,
Reflecting all our inner thought.

Through this artful gaze, we may,
Craft a brighter, kinder day,
For the view from our soul’s window,
Colors the world with the hues we know.