Because you’ve known the weight of noise,
and found your peace in hush—
you learned to hold the broken things
without a need to rush.
 
You cradled grief with open hands,
let sorrow speak its name—
you stayed when others turned away,
and never sought acclaim.
 
The healing silence came to you
because you never fled—
you sat with shadows others feared
and gently watched them shed.
 
It lives in you, this sacred hush,
where deeper truths are kept—
a place where even wounded hearts
may tremble into rest.
 
Into a calm beyond all words,
where pain can come undone—
for healing doesn’t always shout;
it listens. And becomes.
 
You are the space where others rest,
the pause between their cries—
a soul who walks in quiet light
and teaches hearts to rise.