Any morning is a chance
to walk the same path
I have walked before
and listen. Listen
to the silence between
steps, between breaths,
inside joy, inside loss,
the silence that sometimes
fills in the cathedral of thoughts,
the silence that holds
all that is. Sometimes
the silence clings to a moment,
sticks to me,
like the lingering scent
of rabbit brush on the fingers,
like a favorite song
that won’t leave the ear.
The same path
is never the same,
and listening to silence
is always new.
Sometimes my own silence
helps me to hear
the silence of my loves
who are gone.
I could not have known it before,
how intimate it can be,
the communion of our silence.
how in these quietest of moments,
filled with nothing
but listening, open,
we meet.