Stillness doesn’t take you one step forward or back,
Has nothing to sell, nothing to earn;
attracts attention
being still.
Stillness has no plan to control your mission,
No interest in recent history,
or political position.
But she insists anxiety be put on hold,
forgo the fantasies of conquest,
and drop vulgar passion,
before granting you time.
Stillness holds space
for your presence,
keeps faith with your silence.
Gives herself to those
who seek solace,
solicits no conversation,
never pries into secrets.
She lifts your spirit when your broken body
treads cold waters.
Stillness is the friend at your hospital bed, patiently waiting for eyes to open.
She dresses casually on the off chance
you awaken with energy to dance.
Stillness waits with indifference:
Eyes the weather,
checks for lightning,
Opens no windows,
Closes no doors.
Sips wine at the bar
where she lounges,
Saves a seat should you linger.
Gives you the key to unlock her room, where she lights scented candles,
draws the curtains,
Offers you time to engage vivid contemplation,
promises no revelation,
or divine intervention.
A patient friend to all who seek her,
Stillness calms passions
revives the wounded spirit
avoids drowning.
THH
9/12/25
Thoughts Have Hands 