By the window, It looks like any other day, a particularly beautiful one, sun shining, clear blue sky, the snow and ice succumbing to winter’s end. It is quiet, a silence heralding, to me, a feeling of peace that is hard to ignore, or to thwart with logic, with what I now know. By the window, it is just I, the observer of life being itself, of steady spruces offering comfort, of geese flying home, of hand built wooden furniture meant to weather the seasons and the years. Then the thoughts trickle in, and the freedom of this moment, this clear moment of witness of all that his holy and right with this world, threatens to become a cage for fears and doubt, which, like the fertile earth one window away from me, know well how to grow. Before this can happen, I turn to look at the flowers we have been nurturing inside these coldest months of the year, at the scarlet petals blushing with life that do not sway with the times, and settle on finding eternity here, so that I can turn my gaze outside, and see that eternity cannot depart. The geese know it, in their homeward movement, and if we can sit within the stillness of a new day beginning, despite, and even though, and gather every last beating heart into our own, we too can become the world, and in it find we are home.
Your voice is my favorite sound.
In the silence, I find my searing pain
before it dissolves and all that remains
is the sweetest kind of love.
In the forest, our great earth’s quiet
is accompanied by beauty
that is almost too much to bear,
revealed in part through choral hymn:
the rustling leaves, the faintest bustle
of insects in their homes under rocks.
I am tired. I sit with my back
against a great grandfather tree
and can feel all his brothers and sisters
rush in together to replenish me
and the sound can almost be missed,
but it contains every wisdom
and the secrets belong to all of us.
It could be hours or days
that it takes for me to return to myself,
and connect to my heartbeat
that is part of the lullaby of the woods.
Then, when I am ready, I emerge,
and you are new through my softened eyes,
and you have never changed at all.
We clamor and desire and aspire,
and your voice is my favorite sound.
What we need
is a song of peace
in the deepest recesses
of the heart
and does end until
every single heart
has heard the call
and come forward,
until the rhythm
of one is impossible
without the rhythm
of all the rest,
until there is tolerance
and a growing love
for the sounds
of highest unity.
It is a song
that goes back
farther than any of us
and it does not end,
and we can bring
our voice to it any time.
The heart can expand
to take in the sounds,
the beats, the feeling
and the healing
in one instant
that has the flavor
of all eternity.
This is the song
that we are,
the song that we share.
With the biggest
kind of love.