I have listened into nothing
beyond the place of laughter or wound,
the stillness in the pause between gusts of wind,
the small moment – there is quiet,
and in that slight sleeve, everything:
a place between this and that breath,
the way a strand of hair falls across your forehead
when the wind dies down
and before it heaves again.
I have been held, separately and together,
in some close heart that is beating alive the universe:
there, I can say it unashamed, it has silenced
all the noise of this world shouting,
shouting as if by shouting Someone would hear
like the unthinking in the presence of the deaf
who are talking instead with movement
and the gesture of understanding
and who know the beat of the universe is theirs,
the sign language of love hidden in the depth of still silence.
Finally, after so many years, I am growing deaf, welcomed,
into the grand orchestra of God’s singing hands.
Mary Lautzenhiser Bellon
October 30, 2017