INHERITANCE/WEEK 6 of 17
INTERLUDE: WHAT SILENCE SOUNDS LIKE
Interlude: WHAT SILENCE SOUNDS LIKE
Silence has a sound.
It is the space between my name and the breath that should follow.
It is the pause in their voices when I tell the truth
and wait for the weight of it to land.
It is the echo of words I should have said—but never did.
It is a slow, suffocating thing.
A presence in the room that grows heavier with time.
I have spent years carrying silence like a second skin.
I have mistaken its weight for safety.
But now I wonder—
What if silence was never protection,
but a prison?
Coming Sunday, July 27 at 8AM CST
“Dad, I have to tell you something.”
The words came out too fast.
Too heavy.
Like they had been waiting years to be spoken.
I don’t remember if I was shaking.
I don’t remember if my voice cracked.
I just remember the way he looked at me—
Not with anger.
Not with fear.
But with something deeper.
Something I had never let myself expect.
Love.
Steady.
Immediate.
—from WHAT SILENCE TOOK FROM ME,
the next chapter in INHERITANCE: The Audacity of Still Being Here