Sitting In Silence Poem by Savva Emanon

She mistook longing for a destination.

Spent years polishing her ache
like a silver heirloom,
setting the table for a presence
that never knocked.

She thought love would arrive
like fireworks,
noise, spectacle, applause.
But love came barefoot.

It sat beside her without
rearranging the furniture of her soul.
No audition. No performance.
No tightening of the spine.

Just breath meeting breath
like two tides agreeing not to compete.
She realised then, the waiting
had never been for another body.

It was for the moment she stopped
abandoning herself in rooms full of noise.
Because the miracle
is not someone choosing you.

It is you no longer
shrinking to be chosen.

When she could sit, with her own silence
without flinching, without rehearsing worth,
without bargaining for approval,
that was the rehearsal for love.

And when it finally came,
it did not feel like fireworks.
It felt like recognition.
Like two nervous systems
exhaling at once.

Like a cathedral
that had always been there
but suddenly lit from within.

And she knew,
not that it was worth the wait.
But that she had been worth it all along.