The weight of quiet

This poem draws our attention to silent battles that many fight, and yet they hold in inside with no one to talk to. As we talk about depression, this poem opens our eyes to the pain of silence.

There are things too heavy for air-
So they sink,
Settling in the soft corners of the chest
Where no one dares to dust.

I wear them like hidden jewelry,
Only I can feel their shape.
Some are sharp and cut my breath,
Others warm, but too fragile to share.

Not all silence is surrender.
Sometimes it’s a garden-
Roots drinking deep where eyes can’t see,
Blooming in seasons I may never show.

And when the wind comes asking for my voice,
I offer it petals,
Knowing not all flowers
Are meant to be named.