I found it by accident, tucked between the pages of an old notebook from my twenties. Back then, I was driven by ambition and a desire for adventure. Among the notes and plans, I stumbled across a poem I had written—a poem that spoke to a journey I hadn’t fully understood at the time.
Living with Cerebral Palsy (CP) and depending on walking poles, I often found it easier to leave certain challenges unspoken. Revisiting this poem now, I see how deeply silence has shaped my journey.
“Silence Lingers” by Kerry A. Wiley
Silence lingers, thick as air—
A breath withheld, but is it fair?
Is it peace, or hidden dread?
A message lost, a line of thread.
Beneath the scream, a deeper tone,
Not just sound, but truth unknown.
Is it anger? Is it pain?
Words too fragile to sustain.
Silence speaks, though none may hear.
Is it warning, or is it fear?
A scream is never noise alone,
But a voice unknown, its own.
Silence hides within the skin,
Holding truth that lies within.
In silence, there’s a heavy pause—
Unsaid words without a cause.
Is it shelter? Is it fear?
A space where nothing feels too clear.
A scream that shatters silent night—
Is it despair or fierce delight?
Between the breaths, a fragile state,
Is this the point where we both break?
A scream erupts, but what’s the cause?
What’s the rage? Is it freedom or a cage?
Is it longing to be free,
Or a cry lost in mystery?
In echoes deep, the silence grows;
What’s left unsaid, no one knows.
Silence speaks, even when no one listens.
Silence is not passive; it carries its own strength and depth.
The opening line—“Silence lingers thick as air”—hit me in a way it hadn’t before. Silence, for me, isn’t just the absence of sound. It is the pause after someone notices my walking poles but doesn’t ask.
It is the gap between stares and questions that I have grown used to. In these moments, silence is more than quiet; it’s a space filled with unspoken emotions, assumptions, and sometimes, relief that I don’t have to explain myself.
Living with a visible disability often means navigating a world that expects silence from me—silence about the why and how of my life. Sometimes, that silence feels like a weight, heavy with unasked questions. Other times, it feels like protection, giving me space when I don’t have the energy for more explanations.
The Dual Nature of Silence
Silence isn’t one-dimensional. At times, it is a welcome pause—freedom from having to constantly explain my condition or defend my independence. Other times, it can be overwhelming, especially when it feels like my thoughts are stuck in a loop, replaying things I wish I could say out loud.
The poem’s line “A scream erupts but what’s the cause / Is it freedom or a cage?” speaks directly to that internal conflict. Is the scream a release of frustration, or is it a reminder of the limits imposed on me by a world that doesn’t always understand?
For me, my walking poles represent both freedom and constraint. They allow me to move forward, but they are also a visible marker of the boundaries I live within.
The Power of the Unspoken
“In echoes deep the silence grows / What’s left unsaid no one knows.” These lines capture the weight of the unspoken. There are moments in life when words fail to express the full depth of an experience, and silence steps in to say what words cannot.
This is especially true when living with a visible difference—there are stares, assumptions, and unasked questions that often go unanswered, not because I’m avoiding them, but because silence can carry more meaning than a long-winded explanation.
Sometimes, silence becomes a choice. Rather than constantly filling the space with words, I have found strength in letting silence speak for me. It is not about withholding information, but about recognizing when it is unnecessary to explain myself or seek validation.
Silence as a Form of Resistance
Silence can also be a form of resistance. Johnston (2018) points out that silence allows individuals to control their narrative by choosing when and how to engage. By not always answering the unspoken questions or justifying my experience, I can resist the expectation to conform to others’ assumptions. Silence gives me control over my story.
Revisiting “Silence Lingers” highlighted the meaningful role silence has had in my life. Living with Cerebral Palsy has involved moving through spaces where silence holds emotions, questions, and assumptions. Instead of viewing silence as a challenge, I now see it as a space for thoughtful reflection and an opportunity to shape my narrative with intention.
The line “Silence speaks even when no one listens” holds significant meaning for me. Silence is not passive; it carries its own strength and depth. By discerning when to speak and when to remain silent, I have learned to navigate life without the need for constant explanation.
Ultimately, silence has not limited me. Instead, it has provided room for reflection, clarity, and the freedom to walk my path at my own pace.
References
- Davis, Lennard J. The Disability Studies Reader. 5th edition, Routledge, 2017.
- Johnston, Claire. “Silence and Disability: Navigating Social Spaces.” Journal of Disability Studies, vol. 32, no. 2, 2018, pp. 45-61.
- Siebers, Tobin. Disability Theory. University of Michigan Press, 2008.
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