True Silence



true silence

Is not just about the absence of sound.


That, in fact, is hard,

If not impossible

To attain.


It is about the silence of the heart,

A laying to rest,

Of self absorption

And justification —


Of malice

And hubris —

Of the constant chatter

We suppose is grand,


Framing our claims

To virtue,



And control.


It is a silence

That listens

For The Voice

Above all other voices —


A voice not of our own making

Or even of our best selves —


That speaks

Of purposes

And dimensions

That lay in Eden’s cradle,


Making claims on us

That cannot be captured

By schemes

Or designs

Born of our impoverished imagination


It is a silence

Filled with love,

But fierce

In its demands —


Heard only with time

And attention,

Born of humility

And the passion to hear.

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