“Lessons in Her Silence”

**Lessons in Her Silence**

*What a Mother Taught Without Words*

She never raised her voice to teach,

No thunder in her hands;

No sermons standing by the door,

No chalk, no blackboard, no commands.

Yet I learned the deepest truths from her,

In stillness, soft and wide—

She carved her wisdom into me,

Without a word, or need for pride.

I watched her move through heavy days,

With grace no book could show.

Her silence spoke of sacrifice

That only love could know.

She never said, “I’m tired, son,”

Though weariness lined her skin.

But in the way she tucked me in,

I felt where she'd been.

She folded laundry like a prayer,

Hung clothes in morning dew.

And in the hush between her sighs,

She taught me what is true.

She never preached of dignity,

Yet wore it like a crown.

Even when the world was loud,

She rarely broke down.

There were no lectures at the table,

No tales of wrong or right—

Just quiet eyes that met with mine

And held me through the night.

She spoke in gestures, glances, hands—

A language all her own.

In the way she wiped my muddy shoes,

I saw how love is shown.

When I came home with shattered dreams,

And words caught in my chest,

She brewed the tea, and let me be—

Her silence did the rest.

No judgment ever left her lips,

No anger born of fear.

Instead, a quiet strength stood guard

And whispered, “I am near.”

She showed me how to face the storm

By weathering her own—

How to bend, but never break,

To stand when I'm alone.

She bore the weight of loneliness

And never made it mine.

She guarded joy like sacred fire

And gave it every time.

She didn’t say, “Forgive them, son,”

When bitterness took hold—

She simply smiled at those who hurt,

And that, to me, was bold.

She never taught me how to love,

But still, I learned it well—

In the way she brushed my hair aside,

In every farewell.

She didn’t speak of courage,

But I saw it in her spine—

Each time she faced another day

And swore that we’d be fine.

When sorrow tried to claim her eyes,

She let the silence swell.

And in that quiet space, I heard

What words could never tell.

Years have passed, I’ve wandered far,

I’ve learned from every place.

But nothing teaches like her hands,

Or the calmness in her face.

Now I have children of my own,

And often I don’t know

What words to say, what truths to share—

So I let her silence show.

I hold them close, like she held me,

And hope they understand

That love speaks loudest when it’s still,

When guided by the hand.

So if they ask me how I know

What matters and what fades,

I’ll point them to the quiet path

That she, in silence, made.

She taught me how to listen close,

How not to need applause—

How to live a life of meaning,

Without the need for cause.

And though she’s gone, I hear her still—

In wind, in rain, in light.

A voice that echoes not in sound,

But in the stars at night.

She never said, “You’ll be alright,”

But still, I always was—

Because I carried what she gave me:

Her silent, steady cause.