We are all joined in the holiness of the mind that God created. I therefore never consider myself alone in the silence. I'm 90 and live alone in a four room house surrounded by open space. I have no T and have always luxuriated in silence. The exterior silence is here. The i8nterior silence is a work in progress.
The Beloved listens
as I dovetail words
into walls
and walk in winter landscapes.
None of the alien, snowbanked roads
lead home. Even as I speak,
the shadows shift
across the stones
I have tried
to mortar into place.
The beloved listens
and weaves willow silences
into my words.
The quietness of Love
builds me a better harbor
than words ever could,
a place from which to sail,
a place to remember
on the map I navigate by,
where the heart of the compass rose is home.
