Where noise ends

I built this house so windows could be more than just an opening to escape from

There is a chair that remembers the shape of my spine

A floor that does not demand I stand

Even the silence here is not silence

It hums low

Like a mother

Half awake – watching

Her children sleep

Here – I bring

My hands to my mouth

As if to keep something in

Or to keep the world out

I am not crying

But something has already passed through me

A small

Deliberate brightness

Proof that I chose something beautiful

And kept it

Tonight I feel

As if I might spill

But nothing spills

Only a slow return

A gathering of scattered light back into the body

How strange

To be this tired

And still feel something holy

Not joy – not quite

But the absence of noise

That lets joy breathe