it’s imperceptible to traffic on the freeway, and
where loudspeakers herd throngs of humanity, and
where gunshots echo on foreign deserts and in rice paddies
and through treacherous mountain passes, and
where slaughtered buffalo lie rotting on Sacred ground
Mark 1:35 “in the morning while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place and there he prayed”
apart in the darkness
the Light reveals
my voice silenced
listening
praising with ten thousand tears
Luke 2:20 “the shepherds returned glorifying God for all they had seen and heard”
out of the silence
the Source compels the praise
draws it forth
in celestial harmony
quivering like a bowstring
baptizing the mundane
resounding forever
through this jar of clay
pb 2011