The house is quiet.
The seconds drip out of the clock into my ears.
I remember my grandmother’s clock –
and different seconds ticking away.
Slower ones made their way across a quiet table, set for two.
Time for quiet. Time for silence –
Only the dripping of seconds.
I don’t remember what was said at the table,
Only what wasn’t.
*
Father, show me when to to embrace silence and welcome it
rather than to destroy it with words and other noise.
Teach me when to speak and when to be silent.
*
Heidi Viars 
Leave a reply to godspoetbychoice Cancel reply