How Silence Keeps Time
Some silences teach.
I’ve held my tongue long enough for the room to finish its thought— the respect I was never afforded, hands folded where a sentence could’ve lived, eyes fixed on the clock, learning how silence keeps time. These days I am constantly learning the fine line, a frayed rope between surviving and striving— thin as breath, heavy as choice. And still, I refuse to surrender, to collapse before finishing. Keeping my word, refusing to wait for “Later” to arrive dreams running from room to room, promises unattended, doors left open, empty of presence— a ghost of what could’ve been dusty with quiet, holding the shape of an unfinished sentence before it hardens into silence. M.R. Jones


“…holding the shape
of an unfinished sentence
before it hardens into silence.”
Fantastic!
I read this via your email newsletter.
It’s not in the Substack feed — at least, I don’t see it there.
So I’m responding as a reader of the letter, not as a reaction to the feed.
@lintara