She no longer speaks

 Inspires by the Lenape proverb: "Wisdom comes when you stop speaking long enough to hear your own spirit."

She no longer speaks first.
Not because she’s bitter,
but because she’s listening—
not to them,
but to herself.
Her voice, once quick to soothe,
now stays folded
like a letter never mailed.
Not silence in fear—
but silence in knowing.

There was a time
when she would rush to explain,
patch every crack in someone else’s stead,
apologize for sensing things
others tried to hide in plain view.

But she walks with older wisdom now—
Lenape wind in her ears,
cedar in her spine.

She knows:
When words don’t walk beside action,
they are ghosts.
And she has no more time
for haunted rooms.

Let them feel the change
in the way she does not chase.
Let them wonder why her voice
no longer fills the hallway of their 

half-truths.
Let the stillness they left her in
echo back to them now.

She is not withholding.

For the one who listens
to her own spirit
becomes unshakable.

She is waiting for the ones
who come with hands that build,
not scatter.

And if they do not come,
still—she walks
with purpose.

Because wisdom is not loud.
It is a breath,
a decision,
a woman who

Finally stopped trying to be understood

by those who never tried to understand her.