Quiet

The girl sat quietly. She could be quiet now. Quiet in the green and the growing, quiet in the rhythm of leaves and wind and sky.

Fire and anger and pain and blood and hurt.

But now, quiet. Out there, maybe, there were still things that hurt, but here there was rest, and here she could be still. Still in the green and the growing, still in the song of water and flowers and rain.

Thorns and tears and curses and betrayal and rage.

But here, stillness. Here was peace, different from before, when people told her things were peaceful, but yet, inside, there was still hurt. Here she was peace, in her and through her and around her, peace in the green and the growing, peace in the dance of vines and sunlight and grass.

Sorrow and longing and strife and destruction and death.

But look, life. Life springing up in the quiet places, in the still places, in the peaceful places, in the unexpected places. Here there is life, life in the green and the growing, life in the light and the joy and the goodness.

The girl sat quietly.