Sharp Water, A Poem About The Hope For Translation
Like the sharp water
That flows beneath the ice
There is a silence we all know;
It is
Unanswered,
Spoken in eye contact,
Whispered in a touch.
It waits for the songs
That rise before dawn.
It is a mute voice
We were not meant to possess.
We
Were forged to be singers,
A chorus that conquers
Darkness;
But now we mutter
Our own denial
And wait in the gloom,
Listening
For him who is
The word of life*
To melt our ice
That we may sing.
*"Simon Peter answered him, "Lord to whom should we go? You have the words of eternal life." John 6:68.
Thank you for visiting and reading my poem. I hope you enjoyed it and that it blessed your day.
Please see the sidebar for my best-loved poems, I am sure you will enjoy them too.
(c) Adron 8/7/16
To melt our ice
That we may sing.
*"Simon Peter answered him, "Lord to whom should we go? You have the words of eternal life." John 6:68.
Please see the sidebar for my best-loved poems, I am sure you will enjoy them too.
(c) Adron 8/7/16
