Some choose it for their wellbeing.
Mine was forced by the cold weather,
a slight sore throat and exerting
my chords at a get-together.
So I went silent retreating.
Not a sound nor a faint whisper.
No words to inform and instruct
children, colleagues and caretakers.
Away from this word I was tucked,
my voice lost to the harsh winter!
To alleviate my muteness,
the first hours I compensate
with grimaces to best express
my thoughts and precisely state
needs, thanks, “no,” and plain “yes”.
But I fret and grew quite concerned
that by frowning and raising brows
only facial lines would be earned
deeper than my young age allows.
How can such ruin be overturned?
Finally, I did surrender
to silence and thence have become
a hushed and tranquil bystander
still a bit vexed at keeping mum
when I so enjoy to chatter.
Peace I found in not commenting
on each incident and event
and stopped endlessly chiming in
with the vain hope and weak intent
to influence my surroundings.
This was my practical lesson
in beliefs from a Greek thinker.
The man in his own wisdom
accepts the world and its order.
Attempts to fight it are forlorn.
Precious energy is wasted
on meaningless conversation.
Since I was forcibly excused
from many communication
I became much better rested.
This gain was too good to disband.
When I do finally redeem
the use of my injured organ
I will speak with much less esteem
and only on express demand.
Silence is my newfound domain
quite an underrated kingdom
over which I‘m learning to reign.
Its harvest is second to none
of the treatments doctors ordain.
Claire Champy was formally trained in Finance and pursued a career in asset management up until recently when she took a career break to raise her three children. Her hobbies are painting and writing. She paints acrylic abstracts and writes poetry in English and French, her native language.