Monday, December 31, 2018
I Thought I Knew Silence
The day before the end of the story —journal entry from October 2nd 2003:
I thought I knew silence
Quiet spreading out the wrinkles
As if her soft hands against the sheets
Like a thousand times.
I thought I knew nothing
Emptied my mind and thought I felt nothing
I must be dead.
The lost years of quiet empty streets
The night sounds, poisoned by demon’s shrieks
Quiet, spreading out the lies
I thought I knew the faces
The lines. I wish I’d never seen them
Quiet spreading out the lost battles,
Soldiers dead and rotting on the field. I
thought I knew repose
I thought I knew masks, now laid down
Quiet spreading out the night I never knew sleep.
There’s a fullness in this emptiness
There’s majesty in this nothingness
There’s glory for my King in this
There’s love in His heavenly kiss
There’s joy in a moment to confess
His words do my spirit caress
His righteousness, doth my mind impress
He sanctifies as I deeply transgress
He brings to day, that which I suppress
He sends away, that which I obsess
There’s nothing for this moment to sing
Not a word, in this moment to say
Not a breath in this moment to breath
Not a way for this moment to pass
A thousand prayers, and answers
I can now pack up into a box
Place high upon the highest shelf of history
Laying down, the need to understand the mystery
The memories of days, when God’s ways
Were nothing like the wants of my heart
Now depart, the learnings and faith, and art
And settle down in the most beautiful surrender.
A million doves and white and gray
A thunder from the heavens
The waters rushing instantly insanely quietly say: “I am well pleased”.
And in a gush of tears, all my pain is washed away
In a moment of complete deathlike silence
The loudest quiet says me the fool,
But brings me the love, spreading through my veins
As he spread out the wrinkled loudnesses,
The echoes of madness, the desperate needs,
with the quiet of His beautiful hands against the sheets.
Yes, there was a day, when my neck upon the block,
The sword cut through the air, a foredance of steel and blood.
Till in that thousandth of a second, Abraham’s hand,
Stopped and held firmly by the angels,
The whisp of air.
God said “that’s enough, I know your heart”
God said “that’s enough, I will heal you as has been asked.”
God said “get up” as I trembling, tried to bow, but just fell flat on my face on the ground.
Then in surprising gentle voice:
“I want to just hold you,
Close to my breast,
You are my child,
Shhh now . . .
I don’t breathe, but let me, just for you,
Just be quiet with me. Then, be, more quiet,”
Together we took in the most beautiful and complete silence.