S I L E N C E R

on

What are you listening for?

The sound of bullets, horses and roses all sound the same depending on which end of the barrel you’re focused on.


He doesn’t climb in the bed to get under the covers next to me in the morning anymore. I would wrap my arm around his body until he fell back asleep, until he snored. That was our cue to really get up. Maybe it’s been two months, maybe six.

The sound of dependency has become the sound of growth.

Evening prayers have become a battle, not a fight but a debate about the reality of God. My daughter still prays with me but I don’t say my part out loud, I lip sync so I can hear the words in her voice as I hold her eyes in mine. Some nights she replaces all the words and laughs but I don’t get upset anymore.

The sound of mimicking has become the sound of thought

When the world outside triggers me inside I no longer fight the penetrated wound. Instead, I sit against the wall holding myself and breathing shallow-like til the pain and anxiety lessons. A no visitor policy is instituted until I gather the strength to better secure the injury for healing and the ‘swoosh’ heard from clicking the send button when filled with emotion has disappeared, the software replaced by tears.

The sound of projection has become the sound of introspection

The headphones are for decoration but for a beautification project no one can see. I’d become a shopaholic, cluttering the space in my mind with more knick-knacks than quality furnishings and just when I was ready to call off decorating something happened unexpectedly. He’d put up shop and stocked it with everything I needed.

The sound of music became the sound of moving through his inventory


Children will eat almost anything a parent doles out when it’s wrapped in warmth but when they spit it out we need to remember that regurgitation also has its place in nature. In my search I discovered the man I love has an inventory of specialized ammunition that happens to match my unique firearm and I believe that within me are the cartridges he’s long needed but never before found. Our stock “…ain’t worth a lot of money and they damn sure ain’t for sale…”

Every rule of gun safety applies to our hearts and it is our first amendment write to edit the second and decide whether to be the target of destruction or the aim of love.


Everyone we meet has a concealed carry license
Love is both firearm and ammunition
Become fully stocked and Aim wisely