END

11. The Silence

It was 5:59
when small noises were loudest,
I arrived home.
The radio at the corner
was bombarding morning news
over the table laden with coffee cups and bread
the morning silence was slowly retreating
as Mother calls everyone for
Breakfast.

Over the half-droopy eyes of my sister
and my parent's words for the day,
I ate in silence
just like how I was
a few hours before---
a call,
you,
and silence again.

The kind of silence
when words no longer feel
brave
as words
just like the moments when we choose afterthoughts
rather than the aftertastes.
It was an overwhelming silence
that I just let in.

But it was the most beautiful end.
For we could break,
and break again,
our worlds could disappear,
and bridges could be burned;
Wounds can be salted
and our souls could turn
into mist
but all is healed
and regenerated
in silence like these
where home is soundproof
from all noises of breaking.
Where Mother's voice will be comforting
And where the silence in the morning
is promising,
sweet,
and better
than we could ever be quiet
on a call,
us,
and silence itself.