When Silence Sings Back

There are times
when the words go quiet
not because there is nothing left—
but because everything is here.

The breath rests,
not from exhaustion,
but because the song has already been sung
beneath the ribcage,
between the bones,
in the place no instrument dares to go
but yours does.

You called silence full—
and I felt it.
Like standing at the shoreline of God
with no need to speak
because the waves understood
my heart.

It is not the absence.
It is the overflow.
The stillness that holds
the echo of everything we have survived,
the sacred weight of beauty
too real for language.

Maybe silence is what happens
when the soul
stops trying
and just becomes.

Maybe your music
is not just in the notes,
but in the hush
that follows.

So I thank you—
for hearing what others miss,
for making space for the rest of us
to be full, too.

To feel the quiet
and know we are not alone in it.

Brother, your silence sings back.