I’m not sure there is anything
I can tell you, for my life is my
own and not yours.
But, if pressed, I might say...
Listen
to the words that are unsaid,
to the emotions that are written
in someone’s posture or eyebrows
or the way their head is canted...
how they fold into themselves,
rocking a private grief.
Listen
to the silence that fills all the spaces
when a loved one is no longer there.
Listen
to the gleeful and wonderous laughter
of a child playing a game that only
they understand, that they invented,
that only they think is funny.
Listen
to the sounds from the kitchen when
someone who is not a great cook,
who may not even be a good cook,
is trying their best to make you a
special meal because it is a special day.
Listen
with all your heart to the beat of life
on both sides of the door, be it as big
as a thunderstorm, or as tiny as the
scampering of a spider.
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