Evidently

1995 was the year of the penny picked up and measured in due profit to her cause.  

Of late, she militated wanting to say something valuable but stifled it for the solution of vagueness she knew it marinated in.  With a deep breath in pulled down past her diaphragm and into the belly, she mustered the courage to back up all statements with faith that all would be well in the end, everything would work out as it was supposed to and the push and pull of what to do and when was the exactness of free choice and humanity. 

The surging pulse grew from the inside.  It beat like a base drum from a far-off hillside but grew closer every time she feigned her preparedness to speak.   She had a buffet of thoughts and subjects to choose from, yet it was never enough of that one thing to expedite the voice.  A dull “well” would usually surface, followed by the ever-anticipatory “Nothing”…still, no golden-globe.  

What kept her silent?!  Heads up, tails up it didn’t matter.  Friend or foe, she would listen and friend or foe she would empathize.  Yet, there was still nothing to be said about the greater challenged she was facing.  Mornings were similar to evenings…similar to afternoons and the same as the in-between times.  Silent. Nothing to say. The swell of energy for verbiage would often result in tears and they ran back down the face; materializing as the unspoken words she sought.

What goes up...

Evidently, she was not supposed to speak right now. Proven perspective when one sense is not 100% the other senses magnify to make up for the loss.  Logistically then, not speaking actualizes listening.

Turns out what is more difficult than speaking what she is not exactly certain she should speak of?...listening without speaking.  Tasked.