We are often told to fear the quiet ones. That the quiet ones are something different, and to be feared? What of the quiet one that didn’t say anything when they secretly put an envelope of cash inside a needy person’s bag? Or of the man who saved another’s life and didn’t wait for a thank you. What of the ones that were there when no one else was, the stranger that offered something that was needed at a time most needed. What of the ones who suffer quietly under burdens they don’t share, and they continue to serve and struggle just to maintain?
What of the silence is it that people should fear? That the silent reverie be a truth that others are unwilling to bare. Like its perversion, nudity, or sex. Maybe it is like a mirror that reflects only the inner-self, because there in silence lies only you. Maybe the quiet sojourn is one everyone should take, maybe those who live there are among you. You don’t see them, hear them, or really ever notice them. Like nonexistence in some fashion life continues to flow around them. Occasionally maybe they break silence, shuffle off the invisible barriers, or blossom for someone to smell the proverbial roses.
Now I don’t say all the quiet ones are heroes, or just misunderstood, some are villains, but in truth you don’t really know. Sometimes, the quiet ones will pass you by, and you didn’t know, but sometimes, they will be the angel you needed. Sometimes they can be the one that helps you when you needed it. They will be a voice for words you should have heard, or the ones you need to hear.
Sometimes the quiet ones simply have nothing to say, other times, they simply add their truth. But the quiet ones are for whatever reason not noticed, they don’t cry out for attention. They don’t do that, they don’t need to even be seen but they are always watching, listening and waiting, for a moment. Maybe just maybe it is the moments where they can shine the most. Then tuck away like a collapsing star, and become nothingness again. They will walk away with out a word, no need for good bye, they were invisible but for that brief moment, they were the best of humanity.
Some are quiet because they can’t share the horror, people don’t want to hear the morbid darkened tales of experiences. They pretend to understand or to know, but really it isn’t the same, so they refuse to share them. Quietly bearing burdens of horror, trauma, and battle scars. They are the warriors, the soldiers, the hardened class, many are as volatile as nitroglycerin on a carriage ride. Or they may be the person who crossed too far into darkness, and now quietly resides invisible.
There are others who still are more so for their reasons, but regardless, this is to those unspoken heroes, to the quiet saviors, to the words in comfort, and the invisible listeners. Cheers~