(no subject)
a silent eve
will i watch the feet fall softly,
silver tainted, unaware
of all the broken, aching silence
going on beneath them there?
the year was marked by silence,
silver, breaking, failing, undertaking;
by neglect, despair, repentent visions
of Christ hanging cursed and bare
the skin shredded, grated, flayed...
how can i pray to that?
silence is pervading,
and i: believe it to be
meaningfully vague;
am believing that it is only
that she has too much to say
that the day will come
for this tension's resolve;
am praying but to what god of stone
i do not know
You.
but not until it truly burns
or is crucified in turn
but i will raise mine Ebenezer
trusting in the good pleasure
of God to take me farther
though the road grow ever harder.
and the silence of Christ is different
then this baleful silent moment
neither ostentatious nor exorbitant,
though exacting a tremendous weight
of sacrifice and administering
a painful weight of grace,
it drives the mortal silence home
and sunders silent mortal hearts.
the year was bruised by silence,
cut and mangled, so it seems
to us the silence is perversely pleased.
with victory looming so near
so glorious, with the lamb so silent
and bleeding, so bloody and silent:
He listens and bids us listen
to the silent witness
of the listening
silent God.
Sanctus.
Sanctus.
Sanctus.
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l.l