This is prose about experiencing Sensory Integration Disorder.
I stand here barefoot on carpet,
the fiber of comfort and home pressed into my soles.
The Quiet, stands with me.
(Originally published FEBRUARY 2, 2016 on Quirkybirdwords.com)
We watch branches and leaves swing through a wet window.
The Quiet doesn’t echo the cacophony in my mind.
Instead it’s a friend and wraps me in a swathe of emptiness
like a blanket.
It provides comfort in fear,
and its silence feels like a threadbare and button-eyed love
hugged fierce in the dark.
It comforts more than honeyed chamomile
and says absolutely nothing when I need it the most.
View original post 522 more words