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@ ODILI ONUOHA
2025-06-17 09:07:26At the edge of the meadow stood an ancient tree, so old its roots cracked through stone, and its trunk wore the marks of many seasons.
Children played around it. Lovers carved hearts into its bark. But no one truly listened except for Michael, a quiet boy who stuttered when he spoke.
People often cut him off or laughed when he tried to speak. So Micheal stopped using words and spent hours under the tree, reading or sketching in silence.
One windy afternoon, he pressed his ear to the bark. A soft rustling filled his ears not the breeze, but a whisper. A voice without words.
Each day, he returned and listened.
It told stories of rain before roads, of birds who once nested in its crown, of a girl who danced barefoot every spring.
Michael began writing the stories in a notebook.
One day, a classmate named Jennifer found his notes. She read them aloud during literature hour.
“Who wrote this?” the teacher asked, astonished.
Michael raised his hand slowly.
From that day forward, Micheal didn’t have to shout to be heard. He had found his voice through listening and helped others hear the beauty in silence too.
Moral: When you take time to listen, you’ll discover voices even the world has forgotten.