what do I know

about time but that

she’s a live wire

running through

all the lives that ever live

their voices

a low hum within.

I sat still one day.

“listen to yourself,”

she whispered

“listen deep”

“your voice 

isn’t wholly yours

it is the hum

of those around

and beyond

it is what you pull

out of yourself

in response

their harshness

—your anger

their kindness

—your love

it is

what you pass on.

be still, love,”

she whispers,

“be still.”