Silence: Soul Soil

Day 15 – Welcome. It is quiet around here. (To catch up on this 31 Day Series, click the tab at the top of my home page.)

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Silence feeds my soul. I sit in the thick cloud of quiet and breathe in nutritious nothing. Stoke the burning embers of my spirit with more air from quiet spaces. Creativity lives there. Peace and calm attend me. It is as if I am starving for the deafening quiet. Thoughts parade through my mind on their sock footed silent march. Pat pat pat. Like cotton balls sneaking down the stairs. Tumbleweeds blow from the cobwebbed corners of my imagination places.

I am haunted by a holy hush. Muted moments merge into my mind.

And nearly every quiet moment feeds my hunger.

And yet I am filled with a guilty wondering. Why the wiring that is me needs portions of quiet that could feed four families for a fortnight.

Why my margins are so wide, that the world runs in a narrow single lane highway down my life. Is this a guilty pleasure, this seeking silence. Or is it the soul-food required for my survival. No, for my thriving. Creatively, joyfully, abundantly and wonderfully.

Do I choose quiet. Or does quiet choose me. Did I move into the quiet places out of a new sense of hunger and desire. Or did my soul finally settle into itself as a seeker of quiet. A needer of buffers for creating and pondering. For growing and giving

Silence, my soul’s soil. I embrace it. Inhale it. And give thanks for it in my world.

And when the dark clouds of loud and clanging change come, unwelcome in my world, may I have the grace to bend. Extend my hand to the invaders of my muffled space.

And say, this too is for my soul. This season of more noise and less quietude. This season of more chaos and less simplicity. Oh may my heart open the door and let some of the world’s noise in.

Spread my peace, share my peace. Release my peace. To another.

And celebrate that this is where God has made me to be and live, in the abundant place of silence. With prayerful thanks.

May I wait with patience for the return of silence, to come and feed my soul again. 

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Sepia Tones

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Living slow, writing fast

It was more of a feast than a fast
Living slow, slowly living, lead to writing
Fast
The comma and correct grammar mean everything,
Change the meaning in a New York minute
But this is poetry
I digress
Then go came along

A distant cousin to wait
And then the cold
Which was more like an artic covering

Margins grew wider
Yet like the moon
Poetry waxed and waned

And then in the slow fade
Of the day
Words fueled more words
Infusion of encouragement
Stoked the flame
More hat tips
And head nods
A symphonic explosion
Of pure unadulterated
Grace

And surprises
Peek-a-booed into her soul
And in the shadows she
Began to see

A poem
Neither slow nor fast
But traveling just right

And in the sepia tones
She found inspiration
Dancing in the shadows of the roman shade
Of  light
That whispered stop and stare
There is poetry in the window
There
Framed
There are lines that
Need a home

And the muse he whispered:
You will find a
Poem shivering, cold
And waiting there
Penned like hieroglyphics
Piercing through
By light of day
Blanketed by quiet
Wintry air

A poem raises
Up her golden brown
And faded head
In tones of sepia
Freshly inked
Nuanced meanings
There

Living slow, writing fast.

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Responding to the poetry prompt, sort of, from the creative folks at Tweetspeak Poetry “How To Read Poetry” #howtoreadapoem in celebration of the release of Tania Runyan’s latest book “How To Read A Poem”