Well, here we are
once more.
You not speaking.
Me not speaking.
Who wins this
showdown of wills?
Can we talk about this?
Selah
I’ll start.
You spoke
the world into being
and by the words of the prophets.
You spoke the word
who walked among us
and you gave us this book.
Everything I know
of you is of
a God who speaks.
And yet, here we are,
once more,
at an impasse
it seems.
I’ve heard it whispered,
silence is your language.
Is it true?
Do you speak
in the still small spaces among
the abundance of words?
Selah
I speak as
pennies
catching light
from the stream,
blue skies glimpsed
beyond afternoon rains,
a hidden smile dawning
and extended with an
upturned hand.
And the silence?
Yes, the warm and sturdy silence
in a lovers’ embrace,
in a young child
returned to her mother
from the first day of school,
in the welcome and unguarded rest
of the closest of friends.
Selah