I didn’t know you weren’t listening, that in all my talking and talking, you could not hear me. But on I kept, talking, explaining, justifying, rationalizing, convincing, pleading and pleasing my way to this moment of seeing. You weren’t listening.
There was a bell being rung in your life, turning you away from the hum of my distant words. It was clanging for only you, and I, unaware, kept believing in my ways of saving. Looking ahead on the road you were walking and telling you to run, to hide, to swerve; forecasting the weather, the ice, the snow of my cautions melting before they hit your windshield.
I wasn’t listening.
I think from now on, I’m going to see what I’m not hearing. The distant stare, the tilted head, the slack shouldered leaning away from the words you never asked for. And then I’m going to stop.
That bell is ringing in my life too, so I think, for now, I’m going to listen to that, for only me.