The lost language

The lost language

                                                                             

You had Your chance

but, held Your peace –

perhaps, because only a handful

understood Your language.

Later, Your silence became Gautama’s flower; 

a sand grain, a moon and stars’ silence;

the noiseless marrow of our bones;

the pause between heartbeats;

the silence of the backs of our hands,

the napes of our necks –

a silence wrapped in dust; the kernel of the grain;

the hollowness in the horn of plenty.

You had Your chance to speak –

and Your Word flooded the planes,

reaching the smallest, most turbulent and severe

of all our dry places; sated the heart

and began our re-acquaintance

with the lost language of God. 

O child of God, His dialogue is continuous and pervasive,

how could you ever feel beyond its range?  

(from Spoken For)