Hedgerow #10 – The River

 
the river  Silence
beckons,
i dive in
listening
to ancient psalms
sing their poetry
tapping deeper
touching the pain
swimming through
to the still, silent pool,
i reach for a whisper
a single metaphor,
murmured underwater
an echo…. maybe joy
gasping,
and coming up
for air
then seeing
the sun rise
hearing the sky shout,
i breathe,
find a voice,
and sing.
**

hedgerow: a journal of small poems # 10

11/28/14

Impossible

1161

~

when pain enters the room

and noise  – like thick smoke,

climbs into the bed

with orders to distract and torment

the truth is, it’s impossible to pray;

when voices rudely shout

 setting off alarms somewhere behind the eyes

scaring the familiar silence away

you risk everything, even a tumble out the window

brimming, swimming with all your might

you try to listen

but all you hear is the brass band in your head,

 there is a great pressure where once there was equilibrium

 you are lost in the cacophony

    choking on your own words,

until a buttery sulphur, a-fluttering,

happens by your window

and wraps you in its prayer.

~

© 2013 Wabi Sabi 

For Sunday Whirl #116