I wrote this poem many, many years ago, after a trauma. Before the trauma, I was a person who talked too much. The shock from the trauma lasted about two years, during which I made friends with the silence and emptiness inside me. I love the stillness this trauma gifted me with. It carved great chasms into my being, within which Spirit could enter.
The Great Mystery spirals about me
A slow mist in silence creeping
seeping in through open wounds
into the emptiness of my soul
Everything and nothing
Again I surrender.
Listen. Feel. Know.
I give in
I let go to Mystery
I give up defining myself
Who I am, how I feel, where to go…
Because I am everything and nothing
Between here and nowhere
I am still
The silence grows
Like a monolith towering over me
I sit in respectful awe
My skin is burned
My shell crumbles
I am rendered, torn asunder
My soul scattered in pieces on the floor
Is this what it takes to know Silence?