Updated: Apr 27, 2019
I would like to tell you
About the place beyond words.
How can I even do this?
What sounds can my voice make
That will entice your ears
And the listener listening
What sounds? What words?
May I sing to you?
Imitating bird calls
Without lyric, melody, or stanza
But maybe somehow resembling
A wail, an infant’s cry to momma
In the blue nighttime fog?
Maybe this would move you
Closer to the Sanctuary?
May I scribble shapes upon this ruled whiteness,
In sad approximations of hope Drawing from an inner congregation of shrugging muses
Or can we dance in ovals, Our stumbling foxtrot
Carving trails in the dust
Below our sliding soles
While our gaze, Locked in unison, shields us from onlookers
Like a shared, secret, shroud?
Are we getting closer?
Far above the ceiling and clerestory Of this grand suburban cathedral,
Lacy contrails fail to mark the sky.
Songs fail to play, even as the players sing
Time fails to pass, even as the hours chime
Or rather, Do whispers fail to ruin the silence?