The room fills with voices \u2013
Mum\u2019s quick rivers of thought,
Sister\u2019s stories turning the air
toward her days and battles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sit among them
with words that move more slowly,
like leaves drifting
down a calmer stream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sometimes they pass me by \u2013
the moment to speak,
the small opening
that closes again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But I remember And even now, As a quieter person, I sometimes find my thoughts moving more slowly than the conversation around me. This little poem is a reflection on those moments, and on the memory of my dad, who had a quiet way of listening that made space for me.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[435],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5972","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poems"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/hamjak.com\/ma2005\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5972","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/hamjak.com\/ma2005\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/hamjak.com\/ma2005\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hamjak.com\/ma2005\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hamjak.com\/ma2005\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5972"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/hamjak.com\/ma2005\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5972\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6553,"href":"https:\/\/hamjak.com\/ma2005\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5972\/revisions\/6553"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/hamjak.com\/ma2005\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5972"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hamjak.com\/ma2005\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5972"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hamjak.com\/ma2005\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5972"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
how my dad used to sit beside me,
quiet as I was,
a soft smile
that said without saying:
There\u2019s no rush.
Your thoughts belong here.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
while the room carries on
in its louder ways,
I feel that quiet place beside me
where someone
is still listening.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"