31 August 2010

131

Today my heart is not lifted up.
Sometimes I lift my eyes unto the hills.
Today my eyes contemplate the sand.

Sometimes I sing until I’m sore.
Today I am silent.

I have calmed and quieted my soul
like a little boy
reaching up to his mother’s hand

like a little boy
silent and waiting

with a mother
who has nothing to say
but stares ahead.

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