“What falls apart teaches the silence how to begin again.”
The shoreline no longer echoed with parties or engines. Lawns were trimmed, flowers clipped, boats pulled in one by one. The cove seemed emptier, though in its emptiness, a different kind of sound began and quieter, steadier, like the whisper of things piecing themselves back together.
There was no announcement, no grand return. Just the slow work of repair: a chair moved back under the porch, a light left on in the evening, a conversation spoken softly enough to stay contained. What was torn open by storms and shadows began to find its way into a quieter shape, though not without the reminder that everything carries its cost.
Boards reset where waves had worn,
hands rebuild what storms had torn.
Quiet hums where chaos slept,
promises whispered, silence kept.
Rebuilding comes not loud, but slow,
a softer edge to what we know.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Yet even in rebuilding, silence never stays empty for long, the next echo always waits just beyond reach.
SONSHINE FOR YOU 