The more you get to know me,
the more you realize that I
That the face that was once in the crowd
has a story,
that the quiet soul
who stands in the back of the pictures
has a name.
And perhaps you’ll find
that that name is one you want to have called
When you walk into the classroom,
when you read the morning paper,
even when you step outside.
Someday you may realize
that you can even find me
where I’m not.
That the spring breeze carries my name,
that the hot sun feels like my hands,
that the rain is my tears,
and every slow
cascading sound out of the radio
is my voice.
Someday you may beg to hear it.
Or someday you may wish that I
could just go,
and leave you with the sound of our silence.
The more I have gotten to know you,
the more I have realized that you
And no matter the outcome,
the world will never be so silent