Sh…
Rest in these sounds.
Lay yourself down now
at the feet of the letters,
at the base, the foundation
of a word, one
that has always
saved you. Let the letters
tower over you.

mmm…
Welcome
into the yawn
of the night.
Climb inside,
be swallowed
by the very mouth that
teaches and feeds you.
There is no other way
for you to live, but
to surrender
now
to the quiet
roaring in the room,
the womb. This
rhythmic silence
holds and contains you,
you and all your worries,
every last regret.
Whatever size you think you are,
these are the sounds, this is the word
that births you:
here are the succulent walls,
the curves of the air.

ah…
Listen.
Hear, oh human one,
the eternal hum
of your growing. Sleep
with the intimate,
unmistakable knowing that
you breathe
in this.

Sh…mmm…ah.

Deeply rooted in her Northwest Philadelphia neighborhood, Susan Windle uses her craft to explore and share the wonders and mysteries of everyday life, to inspire and strengthen community and to challenge the forces of injustice. Relishing the resonances between voices, she collaborates frequently with musicians, visual artists, progressive leaders and activists.