Quiet

I lean in… Pondering the quiet.

The one that creeps in and lays atop my lips.

I follow the generational pattern with the finger of my mind, the withdrawing nature of the women who formed my cells.

This time feels riper. A gentle nudging of the dove, offering peace. A sort of freedom not to speak. To flow and eat grapes without the proper guilt of sharing. To just internalize it. Sift through it in the barrel of my body, Mixing truth with microbes. Fermenting it into something to be drunk with.

“For the Lord is the Spirit, and wherever the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” ‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭3‬:‭17‬ ‭NLT‬‬