Hear Me (in the silence we speak)

In the Silence, We Speak

Sometimes the most honest conversations happen when nobody’s talking. Not the awkward silences where you’re scrambling for something to say or the loaded ones where someone’s waiting for an apology. I mean the rare ones where words would actually ruin it. Like sitting with someone after they’ve gotten terrible news. What are you going to say – everything happens for a reason? Stay strong? No. You just sit there. Maybe hand them tissues, maybe make coffee. The silence says what it needs to: “This is awful and I’m not going anywhere.”

Or driving with someone you’ve known for twenty years. No need to fill the air. You’re both just watching the road, comfortable in the accumulated weight of all those years. The silence isn’t empty – it’s full of everything you don’t need to say anymore.

Here’s what I’ve noticed: the people who can’t handle silence are usually the ones who can’t handle themselves. They need the noise, the constant chatter, because when it gets quiet they might have to actually feel something.

But silence isn’t always deep – sometimes you’re quiet because you’re tired, or because you’re scrolling your phone, or maybe you genuinely have nothing to say and that’s fine… Not every pause needs to be pregnant with meaning.

The real gift is knowing someone well enough to tell the difference. To know when their silence means “I need space” versus “I need you to ask” versus “I’m just thinking about tacos.” That’s just paying attention to the person in front of you.

We’re so uncomfortable with quiet that we mistake any silence for depth. But sometimes the most honest thing you can say is nothing, because words… words would just be noise covering up what’s actually happening.

The best silences aren’t the ones that speak volumes; they’re the ones that don’t need to.

Hear Me

Hear me

in the laugh that breaks off mid-breath 

with the punchline only you would get,

in the photo face-down in the drawer next to the batteries and old receipts,

in the song I cut off before the chorus hits.

 

Hear me
in the dark, negotiating with God for nothing,
in the text I typed, wiped, retyped seventeen times,
in the morning I wake mid-conversation with you
before I open my eyes.

 

Hear me

in the questions that line up and stay unsent,

in the anger that wants justice, a reason that stands,

in the love notes that start clean and end as white space,

in the stupid hope this is an elaborate misunderstanding,

or the universe mixed up the names.

 

Hear me

in the helpless trying,

in the hopeless reaching,

in showing up even when I’m barely here,

in the fact that I’m still breathing,

after I kept waiting for something to decide for me.

 

This is all I have.

These fragments.

These almost-sayings.

My voice.

Still reaching.

Still trying

to be.

(2017, © Julia Delaney)

Be Alive 🌱
Love ❤️, Julia

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