Saturday, July 13, 2019

Toward a graveyard silence

Toward a graveyard silence                                                   

Even in a choir these days you can always tell
which throat is mine – it’s the one

shot through with an arrow
(like the piercing of a heart)

thick with blood, sounding less and less true,
moving toward a graveyard silence.

I’m tired of singing, of telling, advocating,
arguing.  Only my mind still wants to argue.

My hands are done with finger-pointing;
my heart weary of rebuttals.

(To disagree is so . . . disagreeable!)
My eyes want only to read –

read the hearts of others and find them free
of any blame or error on my account.

O child of God, how peaceful it is when your heart
goes for a long, brave ride and your mind takes a backseat.

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