written at the Carmelite Monastery in Crestone, CO
It holds everything, silence,
offers itself as a blank staff
on which every song is written—
the tiny hymn of insect wings,
the baritone of the jet as it flies
from one measure of sky to the next,
the dry requiem of rustling grass,
the emphatic chorus of crow.
How generous, silence,
am I willing to know it?
How it includes even the cough,
the belch, retching, the wailing,
the snarl, the scream, the shatter,
and scores these in concert with the hum,
the lush purr, the whisper of the lover,
the ecstatic tremulo of sigh.
There is no sound it refuses to hold.
Its patience is infinite.
So when we, like weary pilgrims,
tired of hearing the percussion
of our own footsteps, arrive at its doors,
silence receives us, welcomes us home.
So fully witnessed.
What a wonderful couple of hours I spent at the Nada Carmelite Monastery … so refreshing. I mean, I couldn’t help but wonder how it would be to stay longer.
“So when we, like weary pilgrims,
tired of hearing the percussion
of our own footsteps, arrive at its doors,
silence receives us, welcomes us home.”
And how lucky are we that no matter how much we forget, silence is patient and offers us the tender teaching of remembering. Yes, sweet homecoming.
Thanks for this Rosemerry!
I just came back from a trip “home” – I needed it more than I even knew.
Love and Namaste my friemd
you’re welcome, dear Augusta … I had the most lovely workshop at the Nada Carmelite Monastery in Crestone–the chance to be silent, to feel that incredible generosity. I’d love to hear about your trip “home”!
xoxo