Silence in the Willows

Occasional Poetry- Ask me anything

[silence-in-the-willows]

I looked up at the night sky,

the moon; barely a whisper of itself,

and I am reminded that you have to lose yourself

in order to find yourself.

Just like the moon goes through phases to become new,

so must I,

I won’t know I’ve changed until I get there,

it’s a long journey ahead,

isn’t that so exciting?

[silence-in-the-willows]

Two little birds crossing the street,

friends, lovers maybe?

Cars rushing past,

a plume of feathers on the road,

the other turns around to come back,

like “hey! what are you doing over there on the ground?”

hovering over its partner,

just a moment, almost grieving,

then flying away before another car rushes past.

[silence-in-the-willows]

There have been many times as of late

that I’ve wanted to reach out to my mother,

and tell her I want to come home,

I don’t want to be where I am anymore

I am no longer happy.

Something is holding me back

[silence-in-the-willows]

There’s nothing quite like early morning rain,

the little pitter patter of the drops hitting the window,

the smell of the rain, petrichor.

It feels melancholic, but familiar,

gentle and soothing,

slowly putting me to sleep.

[silence-in-the-willows]

A conversation with my dad

(click to see full image)

[silence-in-the-willows]

Sometimes I see the lambs out in the field;

behind my home,

and I cry,

I cry thinking that’s how I once used to be.

Pure and innocent,

untouched by the sickness of this world.

I was a child.

I was a small child.

[silence-in-the-willows]

I remember curling up on the bathroom floor,

agonizing pain coursing it’s way through my body,

sobbing and choking for air,

I remember calling out for my mother,

begging,

“I want my mom”

I realized I was begging for a caregiver,

someone to comfort and soothe me,

not my mother,

I crave the motherly love I could not have.

[silence-in-the-willows]

It’s okay,

it wasn’t your fault,

it was going to happen anyway.

I’m okay,

it wasn’t my fault,

I didn’t do anything wrong,

it was meant to happen,

maybe it was some sort of divine punishment,

did I do something wrong?

What made me deserve this?

What did I do wrong?

[poisonintheink]

ᵉˣᶜᵉʳᵖᵗˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃⁿ ᵘⁿʷʳⁱᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ 𐙚

— ʀ.ᴛ.

[silence-in-the-willows]

There’s a certain type of pain in knowing

something died inside you.

Not in the metaphorical sense,

but in a very literal sense.

It’s a kind of grief that you feel you need to hide,

but the same grief runs so deep,

no words to explain the depth of the pain you feel.

[mournfulroses]

James Joyce, from a letter to Nora Barnacle Joyce, featured in The Selected Letters of James Joyce

[silence-in-the-willows]

Grabbing you by the shoulders, I shout,

“There is beauty in the mundane! Don’t you see it?”

I shake you, hoping to stir a part deep within your soul,

hoping to open your eyes and your mind to the beauty all around you.

“The quietness of life is sacred! The little things matter!”

I recall washing the dishes with my lover,

I washed and he dried them with the wrong towel,

I didn’t care, all I could hear was our quiet laughter as we stood there.

What a beautiful thing it is to have those quiet moments, just being with each other, doing simple and maybe boring things

[mournfulroses]

Jeanette Winterson, from "One Aladdin Two Lamps," originally published in November 2025

[remanence-of-love]

[silence-in-the-willows]

I reach for the unattainable,

my fingers closing around a dream.

I’ve climbed all this way, for what?

Suffered all this time, for what?

I must keep going.

[silence-in-the-willows]

I noticed I no longer carry a heavy heart

to the places where I used to weep

[silence-in-the-willows]

I have no one to go to when I need help,

my hand is reaching out, fingers extending as far as they can,

but a hand reaching out means nothing without words,

pleas, cries, begging for someone to save you