there are softened silences
that wake us in the heat of the night
and those that make us sit without murmur
becoming conscious of heartbeat and echo
becoming conscious of heartbeat and echo
some that will us to move and mark the ever present
mark us to kiss and fall upon the world with love, with love
silences that summon friends, silences that summon mourners
that wait at graves, longing, lingering, like gravediggers
then there are those within whom god will not creep
wild and ferocious as memory, that clog the words from within
and pin us to the mere mention of hope, while knowing all along that hope
resides in the tangible and in this present silence the tangible no longer praises
it simply mounts the eaves, the embers of love and empties it of all except the hollow
everpresent void.
sometimes god may be silent
god is love the good news says
sometimes god is also in the silence
god is the silence
god is
god
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