A Silence That Speaks

Silence is the first word.
And the last.

It outlives every voice—
keeps what we refuse to give.

In the dark, toward the light—
through chaos, through order,
at the beginning,
at the end.

It moves through many
hearts and minds,
but only a few
are fluent.

We sit with it—
guarding our truths,
letting our eyes speak
what our mouths deny.

Sometimes we shout it—
yet only silence
hears us.

Silence is not a vacuum.
Not absence—
but something we shape
to shield ourselves.

I do not know what silence is.

But I know this:
it speaks
of us.

#IfYouCanTSayItWriteIt #Thoughts #fluentInSilence #language #Poetry #silence #WritfullyTessie

FLUENT IN SILENCE

Silence has many forms.
Sometimes it protects.
Sometimes it connects.
Sometimes it carries what we are not ready to say.
And sometimes -it becomes the very thing that harms us.
This collection explores silence not as absence but as language.
A language learned, inherited, shared and,at times reclaimed.
These poems are not just about what is unsaid, but about what silence holds-love,fear, memory, power and choice.
-Nandipha Chibwe

#Art #Growth #IfYouCanTSayItWriteIt #Introverts #Pain #Poem #Reflection #Saved #TessieWrites #TheWrittenStudios #WhyIwrite #Writing #BreakingTheSilence #brokenArt #ChangingTheNarrative #MentalHealthPositivity #Poetry #Power #purpose #Relationships #silence #TellingStories #VoicesForTheVoiceless #WritfullyTessie

To The Writer That Was

Oh, how I yearn 
to awaken the writer in me— 
to breathe life into these hands 
that once crafted symphonies. 

To let the artist break free 
from her formal shell, 
to summon the summer breeze 
and let creativity swell. 

But now my rhymes are rusty, 
my rhythm misplaced— 
the artist within me 
a distant, fading trace. 

Stories still linger, 
quiet and unsure, 
but where is my melody? 
Where is the voice I knew before? 

Where is the writer 
who once poured her soul 
into every word, 
into every whole? 

Have you been locked away, 
my dear friend, 
silenced by a mind 
that could not comprehend? 

Have you lost your way, 
or are you hiding 
from the light? 

I call out to you— 
return to me. 

For without you, 
life feels muted, 
a colorless sea. 

I miss the worlds 
we built with words, 
the hearts we touched, 
the truths we stirred. 

Each line a dance, 
each phrase alive— 
a quiet place 
where we could thrive. 

So come back to me, 
dear writer, 
come back and stay— 

and let us find ourselves again 
in what we choose to say. 

Returning to a creative self after a hiatus is both exciting and daunting. This poem is a personal call to the writer within me and a reminder to all who paused their passions to awaken what has been dormant.

#WhyIwrite #passion #Poetry #purpose #WritfullyTessie