The Quiet In Her Hands
Peace is Lived, Not Viewed.
Today, October 6th, is when the Nobel Prize winners are announced.
The announcement of the Peace Prize follows shortly--with the eyes of the world on the winners.
Peace is lived, not viewed—through the eyes of a child.
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Home was alien to Eunice; it was her first time back there after years of documenting conflicts in war-torn countries.
The house remained as it was when she left her parents and the neighbourhood—a decrepit riverside garden, walls overwhelmed by creeping bougainvillaea,
Yet, the vibrance of the flowers locked the eyes of the young photojournalist.
The creeping vines throbbed with an unrest that mirrored hers—
Permanent and unresolved.
She stepped into the garden as though it were a shattered fragment of the world she now knew—chasms of chaos.
Even in the silence, she recalled the roar of broken cities.
She breathed in the still air and shut her eyes.
Broken buildings.
The holler of exploding bombs.
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Eunice tried to realign with life as it should be—
Normal and uneventful.
Bomb free.
But falling bombs and the cries of motherless children were stalkers she could not shake off.
Her camera lingered, untouched, on a shelf.
She volunteered at a local community centre, trying to forget the unsettling images she had captured for Life magazine.
Images with an unrelenting grip.
Then, she met Tomo.
The five-year-old was hard of speech—his drawings spoke for him.
Louder than the spoken word.
The children he played with drew to his silence.
The surreal calm of the mountains and lakes he painted.
Children who played together, the colours of the skin and mind linked---
Not a barrier.
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On an afternoon at the centre, hollers that kissed the sound barrier.
Human tsunamis formed in the city streets, swallowing buildings.
A fire had consumed a building nearby.
Screams.
Anarchy.
Fragments of Eunice's mind.
The nightmares she had borne, that her heart now unfollowed.
The photo journalist within reached for her camera, then stopped.
Realisation gripped her arms.
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One that she followed. She helped to lead the children in two lines, an adult picture of calm, down the fire escape.
Firefighters doused the raging flames in a matter of minutes.
She helped to bring the charred garden back to life—to a place of reflection, community, and shared stillness.
And came to know that peace couldn't just arrive; it had to came in parts, with gestures of gratitude, sincerity, and above all—
Tolerance.
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Eunice left the camera behind, an unwanted memory puzzle piece, forever.
She had to live, not capture, stories of peace.
Her eyes fell on Tomo, sketching a dove in the garden.
The world she left behind raged, but the garden buzzed with gentle truth.
And the quietest persons— and moments—held the greatest power.
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For Mikeydred's Octoberon Challenge:
About the Creator
Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin
Hi, i am an English Language teacher cum freelance writer with a taste for pets, prose and poetry. When I'm not writing my heart out, I'm playing with my three dogs, Zorra, Cloudy and Snowball.
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Comments (20)
Such a lovely top story, Michelle. Congratulations❣🥳
👍
Visit my profile Nangyal khan
Oh, really, it was an amazing and completely peaceful story for me.
Great
Great
Such a great tale, Michelle, well deserving TS! One suggested correction: it’s ALL the Nobel Prizes that are announced at the beginning of October. The Peace Prize is usually announced on the Friday of the announcement week.
What a poignant reflection on the elusive nature of peace, Michelle.
Great
Reading this poem a few days after the Nobel prize announcements is quite surreal. One would think you knew the outcome before hand. Well done Michelle
Such a vivid tale of peace and personal efforts. I really loved this description: -Human tsunamis formed in the city streets, swallowing buildings. - 🤩 Lovely work!
A tender, reflective narrative that lingers long after reading. Eunice’s transformation and the delicate interplay of memory, trauma, and healing are both vivid and heartfelt.
You can feel the aftermath of war in this story. Great used of words on visual, like I was there, too.
This is a very quiet yet strong piece. It's poetic in its writing style, and I think that's a strong point for you. I love how there's the contrast between Eunice's camera keeping her tied to the past and Tomo's drawings tying him to the present, one to chaos and one to peace. Very well done.
Ah, this is quietly powerful and beautifully layered! I love how the child, Tomo, becomes a bridge between chaos and calm. The quiet hands do the most speaking. ✨
Michelle, I love your piece so much. You wrote: "...And came to know that peace couldn't just arrive; it had to come in parts, with gestures of gratitude, sincerity, and above all—Tolerance." Your imagery: Bombs, broken buildings, motherless children, throbbing vines, and a child's quiet vision of peace coming from within is powerful and reminds me of scripture: "Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things." — Philippians 4:8 ❤️
So beautiful, full of the peace it’s extolling
A well-wrought piece with a lovely sentiment. How can we live and record our lives simultaneously?
This was incredible. Your descriptions were vivid and completely pulled me into the scene. I felt the contrast between what Eunice saw as photographer and quiet calm of Tomo. I love that finding peace began with service to children instead of chasing the perfect photo. Very nicely written.
Hi