The Call Beyond Silence #poetry

This is a call,
not from towers, not from pulpits,
but from the quiet trembling that rises in your chest
when the night grows too long,
when you wonder if you were born merely to walk in circles,
to eat, to sleep, to nod politely at time
as it passes without asking your permission.

This is a call
to those who suspect
that life is not a ledger of duties,
not a chain of schedules,
not the heavy ticking of clocks
that never cared for your laughter.

It is a call to you—
the one who once believed in wonder,
who knew that the body was only the garment
of something brighter, lighter,
a spirit clothed in skin.
You, who have stumbled,
not in weakness,
but because the path was littered
with voices telling you to be smaller,
to be quieter,
to be satisfied with surviving.

But survival, you know, is not enough.
You long to thrive,
to be as reckless as spring rain,
to belong to the wind
and the rhythm of rivers,
to reclaim the smile that once
lit up your bones from within.


---

Do you feel it now?
The pulse beneath your feet—
not your pulse,
but the earth’s heartbeat
echoing into your arches,
reminding you that you are carried,
that you are not alone.

Do you hear the song in the wind?
Not the rush of air alone,
but the whisper that brushes your ear,
telling you come back, come back,
telling you that you were never lost,
only resting in a field
of forgetting.

Do you long for a home?
Not walls, not bricks,
not the ache of an address,
but the soft clearing inside your chest
where truth sits unclothed,
where you can lay your head
against the lap of your own soul
and finally breathe.

I do.
I long for it so fiercely
that my ribs feel like gates
banging against the storm.
I long for it like a child
pressing her palms
to the windowpane of the world
and waiting to be let back in.

What echoes in your heart?
Do you carry a sound,
a secret chord that trembles
when the sky reddens at dusk?
Is there a wordless song in you,
a hymn that no church ever wrote,
but that your blood remembers?


---

Do you smile when you see a sunset,
not because it is beautiful
but because it reminds you
of something you used to know—
that endings can glow,
that departure can be holy?

Do you press your fingers
against the bark of a tree
searching for the hum of life,
for the secret conversation
between sap and sky?
Do you wonder
whether the veins of leaves
mirror the lines on your palm,
and whether both are maps
leading back to the same origin?

And when you look at a person—
a stranger in the crowd,
a tired soul in the subway car—
can you see beyond the skin,
beyond the rehearsed expression,
and glimpse the colours of their thoughts,
the aurora flickering quietly
behind their eyes?

If you can,
you are already on the road back.
If you cannot,
know that the road waits for you,
and it is patient.


---

I am here.
You are there.
But what is “here,”
what is “there,”
to beings made of light and memory?
Distance is only a shadow
between two candles.
Blow softly,
and we burn as one.

I walk with baby steps—
unsteady, faltering—
but each step is a seed
sinking into the soil of courage.
I am not ashamed
of my trembling pace.
The sprout does not apologize
for not being an oak,
yet within it
sleeps the forest entire.


---

Sometimes I forget,
and forgetting feels like death.
But then—
a bird arcs across the sky,
a child laughs like a bell,
rain touches the roof like gentle fingers—
and I remember.

I remember that I am not here
to earn a living,
but to live a life.
I remember that joy is not a luxury,
but oxygen for the soul.
I remember that even my scars
are altars,
proof that I was brave enough
to bleed and still return.

And so I call to you.
Yes, you.
Not to fix me,
not to lead me,
but to walk beside me.
For what is a journey
without a companion
to witness the turning of pages,
to laugh at the absurdities,
to hold silence like shared fire?


---

The world has tricked us
into thinking that solitude is strength,
that to need is to fail.
But haven’t you felt
the hollow ache of such lies?
Haven’t you yearned
for the grace of another hand,
the rhythm of another breath
walking next to yours?

We are not meant to be islands.
We are archipelagos
longing for bridges.
We are constellations
that only make sense
when seen together.


---

So come.
Take off your shoes.
Feel the grass insist
that you belong.
Lift your face
to the sky’s endless mirror
and dare to believe
that it reflects you.

You are more than the story
that shrinks you.
You are more than the fear
that cages you.
You are a playful, spiritual being,
luminous even when covered in dust,
magnificent even when you stumble.

Can’t you feel it?
The earth still sings in you.
The wind still carries your name.
The stars still keep the map
of your return.


---

I have carried my call
like a fragile flame,
protecting it from the storms
of my own despair.
Now I place it in your hands.
Blow on it gently,
let it grow between us.

If you are weary,
rest here.
If you are afraid,
let us be afraid together.
If you are lost,
then let us be lost
on the same road,
for even wandering
becomes holy
when it is shared.


---

And when the day comes—
because it will—
when courage finds you again,
do not run alone.
Turn back.
Reach for the ones
who still doubt their wings.
Call them the way I call you now.
Be the echo that reminds them
that they, too,
were never broken,
only waiting.


---

I am here.
I have spoken.
My words are not perfect,
but they are true.
I walk in baby steps,
and I will keep walking.

But listen closely—
the call is no longer mine.
It belongs to you now.
Carry it.
Answer it.
Live it.

And as for me—
I step away,
I vanish into the hush of wind and leaf.
No longer “I.”
Only the rhythm of the earth,
the song of the wind,
the timeless silence
where your soul and mine
are the same.

#PoetryOfTheSoul #SpiritualAwakening #EmotionalHealing #InnerJourney #SoulfulConnection #PoeticCall #MindfulLiving #RiseAndThrive #PoetryCommunity