awake

preface.  

i am no poet. sometimes i try to make small efforts to say something in a different way.  this is one of those efforts:

__________

awake

closets cluttered crowd my head

with the sound of something new

 

these small rooms are stored 

with books of history

with journals of prayer

with scrapbooks of memories

 

they’re opened by the song of birds who awake

with hunger and together confess their

hope and fear and need

and their longing to know

 

and though they may be muddled

the voice of God is present, still,

ever-nearer