there is a heavy geometry to silence
a physics of all the sentences
we swallowed to keep the peace
they settle in the marrow
dense as lead
turning quiet rooms
into glass jars
a whole geography
lives in the throat
unsaid apologies
the truth that arrived
five minutes too late
the sparks
that could have lit the path
or burned it all down
we carry them
through ordinary days
their anchor-weight
tethered to our ribs
our lungs adapting
to the smaller room inside us
learning the art of moving forward
under a sky we built from silence
but how free we would be
if we let go of the unsaid
The Creative Chic
The Creative Chic 
Just. Beautiful. 😍
Thank you, Braden 🤗 I hope you’re well and having a good day so far!
All good here! You? 🤗
Not too bad, thank you for even asking 🤗
It’s going to storm something fierce here. DARK skies!!!!
Same here right now!
I don’t care much for storms
There is so much truth in those few words. I love this poem, especially the imagery of “the sparks that could have lit the path or burned it all down” – you’ve a wonderfully creative mind and I’m so glad you share your writing with us, thank you. pp
Thank you, so glad you’re here to read my sometimes madness!
Great opening line!
Thank you!
Simply beautiful, Jennifer.
Thank you so very much!
Beautiful, my friend. 🌺
Thank you, lovely 🌺
Always my pleasure. beautiful. ❤️