“The Quiet Places”

There’s a quiet place the city forgets,

Where the air hums low,

And the sky wears its softer colors

The kind that never make it to our phones.

It’s where the morning moves slowly,

Where light touches faces

Without asking for attention.

The kind of place where a sigh

Feels like a prayer that finally found its way home.

I used to live in the noise

In constant scrolls,

In crowded rooms filled with hollow laughter,

Chasing moments that never stayed long enough

To mean anything real.

But there came a day I broke mid-laugh,

A crack so small no one noticed,

Except me

And the silence waiting beneath it.

That’s when I learned that peace isn’t earned.

It’s remembered.

It’s the sound of rain hitting rooftops,

The rhythm of shoes on wet pavement,

The kindness in someone’s eyes

When words fall short.

The quiet places don’t ask for stories.

They keep them.

They hold the ache of the tired,

The tears of the unseen,

The hope of those who dare to rest.

Sometimes I sit there at dusk,

Watching birds cross the dimming sky.

Their wings don’t hurry.

They trust the air will carry them

And somehow, it always does.

I want to live like that.

Not chasing, not proving,

Just trusting the invisible things

The breath between thoughts,

The calm between storms,

The love that lingers even when no one is watching.

So if you ever lose your way,

Don’t search for noise.

Walk toward the quiet.

There you’ll find yourself

As you were before the rush

Still, whole, and beautifully human.