Written in the Nairobi, Kenya Workshop
The Quiet Noise
When everything is quiet, I smile, I feel, remember and enjoy the quiet. But then it’s not. Now I only hear more clearly the noise. Not the big noise, but the deep whisper that screams, “Let me out so I can wail, so they can hear and understand, so they can know that I’m not quiet, only still; that I’m not soft, only gentle; that I’m not sure, only calm.”
Exhale. So heavy. No, the tears will not be let out. Not today. We don’t know how much time we have and so we may not be able to stop when the crowds return, when duty calls to get work done, when precious young ones need to be fed and consoled so they can let their tears flow, so their burden will not be too heavy.
All done. Where was I? Where is that quiet place so I can hear the noise again – the strong and steady voice that says, “It’s ok, we have all the time we need. Open the floodgates, let us flow.”
Exhale. So nice. I am free.