“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” - MLK
Silence stands in the corner, unnoticed,
Yet her presence causes a sense of discomfort.
She waits as the first drops of rain fall,
While a storm begins to turn in the grey sky.
She waits for the rain to come faster and harder.
She waits as lightning and thunder fill her frail body,
twisting and turning so violently,
she loses all control.
She waits as water floods her mind with a single shock.
she waits as the flood drags her under
its tumbling waves and currents.
She waits as the world fades to grey,
as the lightning no longer pierces,
as the thunder no longer turns,
as the rain no longer falls.
She waits until the sun returns and she speaks,
ever so carefully,
and her words blossom like a rose in the wind,
swaying and bobbing on a much calmer current.
The lightning inside her burst like the first bud of spring,
twisting and turning as delicately as summer's first breath,
every ounce of energy she possesses put into
her carefully formed words.
She pronounces each syllable so clearly, so precisely,
you can tell she's been waiting.
She waits again as her lightning filled words
float like a blue jays sweet call
to the vibrant sky.
Her words will call the rain,
the rain that will wash away all memories
of uncomfortable silence and twisting pain.
She waits, knowing her words will call forth change,
change in the silence of rain.