Poetry - Whispers


WHISPERS

I could not hear
His voice in the hurried
Rush of the day.

With frets and fear
Pushing to the front of
The wild fray.

Buzzers and gears
Clanging, honking, roaring
In frenzied array.

I could not hear
His voice in the hurried
Rush of the day

When moonlight clear-
Ly bathes the world with calm
Soothing sachet,

Gentle woodland deer
Feed in quiet pastures
Near their Shepherd stay.

I could now hear
His whispers in the quiet
Hush of the day.


2 comments:

Marijo (Mary Jo) Phelps said...

That "still, small voice" - the trick is to shut out the clattering "other" noise and listen.... HE is faithful and there and we are sometimes so scattered, aren't we? This captured it all.

NancyK@A Softer Voice said...

I'm so guilty of filling quietness with voices from the world. Thank you for the beautiful poem that reminds us of the need for silencing any voice that is not God's. Your blog is beautiful, as is your writing. See you at JoE.

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