Our own voices now still
we open ourselves to listen to yours—
your words from a living void, that we,
with grace and quiet, can know.
Your presence is but a shadow in the light
we strive to see;
your own voice faint,
but you can shatter our stillness
with your whisper.
I know it is yours because I cannot contain it
as it enters me,
and often I am pulled from my seat, to stand
With you in my mouth,
my voice now ours,
as you speak through me
as a cellist through her instrument,
as we fill the air with who you are,
hopefully moving my brother,
my sister, just a little closer.
Word by word, image by image, we listen,
build, as you enter us
in small pieces of the immensity
that you are.
Here, you give me this voice
to speak you;
here, in this gathering of listeners,
we in quiet, wait.