Poem 148

sunday

I don’t shy away from silence
we’re different that way… not better
just different. I wouldn’t dare imagine
what bright white you’re hearing
outthere allalone, with your hands
pressed together—little walls
around a universe just small enough
to understand—I am surely mistaken.

We’re different that way, different enough
to quietly agree on smaller things: weather
changes and fresh cut blooms are best
when we are alone in silence I can hear
the unfolding of infinite petals, each
takes a small insignificant breath before
becoming something actual. You hear
words-not-real-words-the-words-of god.

I don’t have ears for god.
We’re different that way.

Not better, just different… I’m glad.

—ECW

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