chorus of quieted voices

She bowed her head
At my feet
Her thick long brown hair.
fell along the
planks of the
oak
hardwood
floor.

like unto
The sinner unto Jesus.
Pilgrims to Saints.
A Novena.

Ananda unto Buddha.
Subjects unto Pharaohs

And she wept.

We heard Them, then.
The Voices in chorus.
Voices of Ancient Ones
Crying for lost lands
Lost traditions
Lost religions.

We bow low.
But not low enough.
To hear All.

our vision swept away by noises
Of jackhammers, nail guns, air compressors

If we could still the
Cars on the interstate,
Screams of sirens,
Bombs in the Middle East.

They would return.
we could honor Them
just for the moment.

“Quiet ways bring quiet answers.”

Co-author Karen Harris from whom I ruthlessly plagiarized http://karendelamustang.wordpress.com/
And by Rachel Kellum who assisted me with research
http://www.wordweeds.com/

6 comments

  1. perhaps even in all the clamor we can find them in ourselves if we can find big enough silence inside: the greatest spiritual challenge of this noisiest of all epochs.

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