When Someone Enters the Stillness

If someone joins me,

let it be like the rain 

arriving not to drown what’s grown,

but to deepen the soil beneath it.

Two lives, separate but aligned,

like rooms in the same house

where the silence hums in different notes

but the harmony stays true.

They will not come to claim,

nor to command the rhythm I already move by.

They will knock softly on a door

that’s never been locked, only sacred.

If they are meant to enter,

it will be because they understand

that peace does not need rescuing,

it needs respect.

I do not stretch my hand toward want.

Desire, when it is real, has its own compass

it finds its way without maps or calls.

Let them search, chase, and reach,

for I am not hiding.

I am simply rooted,

and it takes strength to step into a forest

that does not bend for footsteps.

If they wish to walk beside me,

they must know this:

companionship is not built from possession,

but from parallel grace.

They will bring their quiet to meet mine,

and neither will be louder than the other.

A shared meal, a laugh at dusk,

a friendship dinner that does not demand romance

but allows it to unfold like wildflowers..

unforced, unspoken, right in its own timing.

I am not the echo waiting to be heard.

I am the sound of rain on cedar,

the warmth of tea sipped alone,

the woman who walks in storms

because she knows peace can’t drown.

If someone reaches,

let their voice be steady, sure,

their intent unshaken.

Only then does the door open,

not out of need,

but invitation.

And when they enter..

our lives won’t merge,

they’ll weave.

Two threads, firm in themselves,

crossing not for completion,

but for beauty.