Silence

Our words, so much less than

The inarticulate dream;

Our stumbling, bumbling counterfeits

Tumbling  from our lips

Grumbling with inadequacy

For what remains unsaid

Even when we say it.

We take Your words

And cut them up

Hoping to find actuality

In the inter-consonantal spaces,

And, when we find nothing

Declare that nothing’s there.

We are the impoverished

Who rise in the morning

And hear no angels’ song.

We are the foolish

Thinking words are less

Than our spirals of activity.

We are the ignorant

Who do not know

The power of Your words.

We are the arrogant

Making ourselves the measure

And the universe falls short.

How can You speak

Into the restless hubbub

Of our whirling self-justification?

Let us be willing

To wait in the silence,

Testing our words against truth

Falling silent

Waiting until

Your words remake the world