The deep, deep hammer
He’s teaching me another language –
the One known as the silent Christ.
I run to spread the news and quickly learn
no one else speaks it; even I don’t know
what I’m talking about – the resemblance
to sheer gibberish dispelled only
by a resonance in the deep, deep hammer,
anvil and stirrup of my boxed ears,
the throttled pipes of my throat,
my heart beating under His heel.
A very thin stitching holds my world together.
Ambiguous and elusive –
reaching for a word suddenly unpronounceable;
just as well, for it has lost all sense,
come to a thousand shades of meaning –
one thing this moment, another the next.
I’m being taught a language
where I speak only by listening,
dismantling as we go the definition
of every word I have every uttered.
O child of God, faithfully say your prayers
and with all your heart listen to the silent Christ.