Tag Archives: meditation


In the quiet is when I hear myself
The steady beat of my heart 
the echo crackling pulse in my ear
The questions my skin asks of me
When will you rub cream on me?
Why haven't you let me feel the wind today?
I hear the Sun calling to me 
Will you take your face to greet him?

The quiet doesn't sneak up on me
She doesn't really do anything overt
Or show any change in her weather
She is simply define by a lack of noise
By the clarity of the air 
The ripening  freshness 
As green returns to the once Wintered land

Quiet doesn't claim any particular season
There isn't one element or another 
That she aligns herself with
There is no vitriol to her presence
No pressing want of need given or asked for
She doesn't make any demands of any kind
She simply is.

When all the busy, all the over achieving
All the doing, the placating, the perfecting
the absoluting, the info gathering, and chatter
Quiet arrives in her not-very-fancy attire
She's really quite naked,  vulnerable
Unimpressive might be what some think
As she seems small and lacking in personality
With nothing at all to say.  Not a word
Not a thought, emptiness, a void

That's when I know she's here
In the stillness, the silence
Sitting next to me, in me
Quiet is the most tender part
of my heart, a deep well of waiting
Every answer I ever needed to know
arrives in her eternal presence.

copyright.  jeanne adwani

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Filed under MICHIGAN POET, NAPOWRIMO, national poetry month, Silence, YPSILANTI MICHIGAN



Eyes blink a story out in slow flash

Panning the scene 360 gathering

in quantum seconds anything of the

what is, what isn’t, what might be

for the mind to feed on like a feral animal

desperate to stay alive, vigilant, clever

Answering even if the answer is 

nonsensical, false, irrelevant.

A story must be told, must unfold

The mind has a lustful hunger


It’s unbearable to not have an answer 

The eyes grab and gobble the view

Information logs in to the brains diet

of, ‘give it all to me and give it now’

No matter what is seen, what is imagined up

in the in-between of what isn’t really there

in the gulping, the inhaling, the nano seconds 

of feeding on sight and sound and sensations

Filling up any second of empty, 

Filling up the space between the spaces

Filling and pouring out a story

Making it up as you go along cause

it’s gotta make sense somehow or another

cause no question can go unanswered.

No question can go unanswered


It’s the quiet mind that feeds on silence

Surrenders the questions up to empty spaces

one by one by one making no commentary

Making no edification, making little of

sight and sound and sensations that interrupt

Interrupt the hungry minds insatiable

lustful desire to have an answer to something,

Anything, all things, nothing, feed me

Only, in that busy silence, in that quieting mind

In that letting go of a need to have answers

Is the answer.

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