Those human years
You became the Word and observed silence,
vowing the whole of Your advent
and adventure Your silence to break but,
all those human years, You held Your tongue.
Perhaps, Your silence was broken
when the Word was broken
and Your bones, like hatchets,
were buried under a stone on a hilltop
made sacred by Your sandal prints,
silence and sweat, or, as Eruch suggested –
You broke Your silence, even as You kept it
which would explain the multitudes
who turned up at Your door,
who answered and, still yet, answer
Your call – Come all unto Me.
You became the Word and that was the answer
and the breaking of Your silence,
at the same moment, the reply
to God’s original inquiry and to the heart’s
continuous suffering, a reciprocal answer
assuring us we are not alone
in our silence and in our solitude.
O child of God, listen for God’s answer and,
failing to hear it, His thundering, silent Affirmation.