In Silence

I grew up
in a noisy and chaotic household,
full to overflowing
with the wildness of children.

A moment of silence
was so rare that,
like a vacuum,
it made my ears ring.
I loved it anyway.

There was one quiet afternoon,
marked only by soft sunlight
and calm stillness,
that has stayed with me
all these years.

I sat at the living room window,
looking out at the beaten down yard,
the sidewalk curving toward the house,
and thought simply,
“Well, here I am,”
as if seeing myself in that place
for the very first time.

I’ve had that sense
of opening to “here”
many times since,
always in deep silence,
always reminiscent
of that first time.

It is as if
in the safety of silence,
the ever same spirit in me
awakens
and once again
I can see my world
through her fresh
and unassuming eyes.

By Maria Brady-Smith