When Silence Breathes

Silence had spread her heavy gown across the living room.

Everything was under her rule; even breath was held captive in the chest.

But amid that stillness, the ticking of the clock—with its long, thin hand—echoed through the air like a bully gasping for air.

With every turn, it seemed to carry the burden of all time: voiceless, weary, yet unceasing.

Slowly, Silence lost her patience.

She wanted to cry out, “Be quiet! Stop your noise!”

She thought to herself:

Why is it that whenever I rest in this room, I never hear that fragile tick?

Perhaps I was too lost in myself… or too proud, believing that wherever I am, everything must fall silent.

The clock’s hand, sensing her sharp gaze, whispered softly:

“Have I disturbed your thoughts?”

Silence slid closer from the window.

“Don’t you ever grow tired of turning around yourself?”

The hand smiled faintly.

“Of course I do. But what choice do I have?

Everyone in this house watches me—

as if it’s my duty to tell them when to work, when to go to school.

All the weight rests on me,

yet in the end, it’s that little dwarf—the clock itself—who gets the credit!”

Then the hand continued:

“And you? As soon as they all leave, you rush in, spreading your gown over every corner, not just this one.

You make yourself so heavy, everywhere.

Don’t you ever tire of your own stillness?”

Silence sighed deeply.

“Only after they all leave do I feel at peace.

No harsh music, no children screaming, no meaningless chatter on the phone.

That’s when I can finally breathe again.

But in that calm, your sound is like a hammer striking my nerves.”

The hand said quietly:

“All those years when the house emptied, you never noticed my ticking.

What changed now, that my sound feels like a hammer to you?”

Silence replied:

“Perhaps the children growing up, the endless noise, and all the meaningless words have made me crave a perfect stillness.”

The hand smiled.

“Forgive me. If it were in my power, now that I know your heart, I would stop myself.”

Just then, the door opened.

Voices and the hum of life poured back in.

But Silence was no longer there…

Written by Faramarz Parsa