WHERE WORDS FALL AWAY

> WHERE WORDS FALL AWAY

I came with words—

armfuls of them—

carefully chosen,

carefully arranged,

afraid that silence

might mean You were not there.

So I spoke.

I spoke of needs,

of fears that circled like restless birds,

of thoughts that would not rest

until they were named.

And still—

something in me remained unheard.

Not by You,

but within me.

So the words began to loosen,

not taken,

not silenced—

but gently released.

Like leaves

that no longer cling to the branch

when the season has turned.

One by one,

they fell.

Until what remained

was not emptiness,

but a stillness

I had never trusted before.

There—

without the sound of my own voice—

I felt something closer

than all my speaking had reached.

Not a reply,

not an answer shaped in language,

but a presence

that did not need to be explained.

And I stayed.

Without rehearsing,

without asking,

without needing to be heard—

only listening.

And in that listening,

I began to understand:

nothing essential had been lost

in the falling of words.

Something truer had been found.

For where words fall away,

the soul does not disappear—

it awakens.

And what I could never say

became the very place

where I was known. 

Steven G. Lee

May 2, 2026