"In the silence...."

the house is
silent
except for the
whir and hum
of
the furnace,
the refrigerator,
and my
mind.

"Quiet..."
I beg.

"Quiet."

I unplug the
refrigerator.

I turn the thermostat so low
that neither furnace or
fan are needed and
suddenly it
is
silent...

I sit in a pool
of sunlight
and
let its warmth
seep deeper
and deeper
into my
bones...

But there is
still noise...

"Quiet,"
I say,
to the opinions,
what ifs,
and
do-it-later
lists,
the
letters-to-be-written,
and the
conversations -in-
my- head ...

and they
slink out
of the side door,
ever so
reluctantly...

And from
right there,
in the middle
of the room,
sitting in a pool of
light,
something
blossoms...
a small
bit of birdseed
that the
vacuum missed,
is watered by
the silence
and begins to
grow.

Tiny tendril roots,
a bold first sprouting,
bursts the seed shell
reaching for
the light...

Something is
growing in
my heart's room..

I will not let
her die...
I will make a
plan for her survival
I will ensure that she
thrives here. 
I will protect her
infancy,
I will nurture her
strength,
I will celebrate
her fruition...

and God says,
"Silence..."
you will do nothing of the
sort...
"She is mine..."

"Be still...
just
be
still..."

and the
mechanism
of the
mind
stills...

again.