The Silence That Taught Me to Speak

Too often, we try to fill the silence with noise,
afraid to be alone, as if we have no choice.

Just to be heard, we reach for a sound,
but what’s the point if no truth is found?

And even when voices fade, their words remain,
taking up space, leaving whispers of pain.

We should guard this space, protect it as gold,
yet we trade it for stories so carelessly told.

A clear invitation for doubt to reside,
I sat with the quiet, let stillness surround,
and heard my own voice—it was always profound.

Freed from the weight of the world’s empty views,
I let go of their noise and found my own truth.

Let them believe I am fragile or weak,
but silence, not sound, taught me to speak.

And that—no one can take again,
certainly not without permission.

—Angela
The Voice beneath Daughter, Unwritten