Listening to Silence: Genevieve Taggard and the Quiet Power of Aging Creatively

In the chorus of modern life, we often forget the value of quiet. We forget that silence isn’t emptiness—it’s space. It’s pause. It’s potential. And in this space, creativity often finds its voice.

Genevieve Taggard (1894–1948) understood this. A poet of fierce conviction and deep lyricism, Taggard spent her life engaged with the political and poetic movements of her time. But beneath her activist voice, there’s another current in her work—one of inner listening. Of stillness. Of the strength that comes from reflection.

Though not known for writing about aging specifically, Taggard’s poems offer something profoundly aligned with the spirit of creatively aging. They speak to the evolution of self through time, the shifting of identity, and the power of presence. Her work reminds us that creativity isn’t always loud, fast, or new. Sometimes it ripens quietly.

Take her poem “Interior”, where she writes:

Let me not be afraid
Of silence, where no voice is
But mine…

There’s a kind of radical courage in that request—not to fill the silence, but to meet it. To hear your own voice within it. Isn’t that what so much of creative aging is about? Letting go of the noise. Trusting your own rhythm. Turning inward and finding a different kind of music.

Taggard’s poem “With Child”, though centered on pregnancy, speaks equally to creation in all stages of life. She writes:

I am slow and aching but I sing.

This line could just as easily belong to someone in their seventies sculpting clay, writing memoir, planting a garden. It’s the aching and the singing that matter. It’s the willingness to stay open to change, to keep creating through the natural shifts of the body and soul.

In a world that prizes speed and youth, Taggard’s voice invites us to slow down and deepen. Her poems remind us that the later chapters of life aren’t about endings—they’re about uncovering layers we’ve always carried, but perhaps never paused long enough to explore.

As we grow older, creativity doesn’t leave us. It simply asks different questions. It invites us to listen more closely. To trust our silence. And like Taggard, to keep singing—slowly, aching maybe—but singing still.

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Do you have a favorite poem that’s guided you into a new season of life? I’d love to read it and share it with the Creatively Aging community. Drop a note in the comments or message me directly.