When I’m Silent


When I’m silent, don’t think that I don’t care.

Many times I keep quiet because I care so much.

I know that words, once spoken, can not be taken back.

And they matter: words can hurt or heal, sometimes both.

I don’t take this lightly.


When I’m silent, sometimes it’s because the story isn’t mine to tell.

Our stories are important, and I believe

That we each should have the space to tell our own truths,

Without stolen thunder, or words out of turn.

So I wait quietly.


When I’m silent, it’s because I’m made of simple clay

An earthen vessel, prone to imperfection

And I know – not every opinion needs to be aired

Nor every thought spoken.

Wisdom earned the hard way.


When I’m silent, don’t think I’m being weak

Or that I will never speak, because I will

When the time is right, when the words are ripe, when the story’s mine

I won’t hold back. And you may at that time wish

That I were silent.

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