more than watchmen for the morning

In the silence before the dawn,
in the fearful shadows that embalm
the edges of sleep, each sound
is amplified:

a cat creaking the floorboards, dreaming murder;
the drum solo of a lover’s heart, beating out betrayal;
a tree branch trying to pick the window lock;
the water of life coursing through plastic pipes;
that crushed, empty, static crackle,
the absence of the voice of God.

This entry was posted in lectionary reflection, poetry, prayer and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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