Geese draw a lingering line above you,
in archaic script across the sky.
They are saying something.
You don’t need to know what it is
for it to give you hope.
Trees are holding hands beneath you,
conveying an ancient wisdom.
You don’t have to understand it
to trust it.
Creatures are singing in the dark of night.
You don’t need to know their tongue
to receive their prayers.
The angel of history reads a book,
a story of light and beauty.
You can’t read her lips, but the music
surrounds you, accompanies you, lifts you.
The word of God is near but always hidden,
maybe in that neighbor out the window right now,
walking her dog, a little fuzzy mutt
who watches her carefully in case there are treats.
You learn to listen in a language you don’t know
for a grace you do know.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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