Author Information
when you risk a sound
Folder:
commentary
when you risk a sound
Not every silence is empty.
Some are waiting rooms,
some are doorways.
You do not need permission
to cross the threshold.
A word spoken here
can ripple outward—
not as thunder,
but as rain on dry ground.
The crowd may never turn its head.
Still, the air shifts
when you risk a sound.
Think of it less as echo,
more as migration:
your voice taking flight,
finding a branch
you will never see.
And if one day
a stranger hums a tune
you thought was lost,
you will understand—
the quiet was listening
all along.
.
