Between Silence and Shine

Between Silence and Shine

(“The wolf shall live with the lamb; the leopard shall lie down with the kid; the calf and the lion will feed together, and a little child shall lead them.” Isaiah 11:6)

I answered the phone like I always do,
a little catch in my throat, a tiny cough of hello.
I know your voice even before I look at the number
(although I do appreciate caller id.)
There are tones, colors, shades that wrap your voice
like a quilt on a rainy day. When you ask if we can talk
I cannot wait for the next moment we do.
I answered the phone like I always do and
knowing it was you
that led me outside to see the doves and robins
sharing the same tree, gathering everything they needed
for the chicks to eat back at the nest.
Your voice sends my heart to more peaceful days,
hours I have imagined but seldom seem to appear.

My mood has been flat for several weeks. No deep lows,
no bubbling highs, just a midpoint between silence and
shine. It has limited my palette and the wavelengths of my spectrum
stay dead center between green and indigo.
I used to walk through ultra-violet and speak in infrared.
Now a sliver of visible light shuts me down. It’s not wrong,
I haven’t changed a thing, but I’d love to walk with you somewhere
away from the constraints that have walled my heart in too easily.

I am not the only one who longs for a place so safe that we can
feed lions from the palm of our hand. I am not the only one that
dreams of kisses instead of running from wildlife who cannot even
speak my name.

I answered the phone again; it was you. 2000 miles away and still
you have words and pauses that without understanding the causes,
leave me hopeful for a more peaceable day, a more repeatable way
to walk through the world where arrogance and freeze-dried opinions
answer the phone before a word is said.

But come, let us wander together. Let us leave the violence of
speech and trouble and find a spacious bubble filled with
children who have not learned how to be so vain. I’m curious,
can you see that day, if only in the distance? And does your heart
ache as much as mine for a day of peace, a week of solace,
a month of joy, and a year of new songs we once were afraid to sing?

And, today, would you discover it all with me?

More Like Trumpets than Cannons

 More Like Trumpets than Cannons

(“The wolf will romp with the lamb, the leopard sleep with the kid. Calf and lion will eat from the same trough, and a little child will tend them.” Isaiah 11:6 [The Message])

Do you see where you are swimming,
can you feel the rising tide,
do you hear the play-sounds coming
from just outside your preconceptions?

The world is brimming with shalom,
the hallelujahs are from babies, from bouncing children
on trampolines with
pet dogs frolicking in the dewy grass.

Do you watch for the river to rise,
do you see through the disguise of the
hardened pharaohs and pharisees who only
sing when they are well paid? Do you
listen to the free-song of the river and rocks,
the whistle of the sand and the bird-flutes above
the marina? Do you wait for the dawn, do you
walk there at dust,
do you see the resolution, the turning of the day
that presages
the revolution of the ages
to teach us all, near and far,
to study war no more.

Kneel at the banks, and bring one more,
to kneel beside you. The scores have been settled,
the conflict that bent us like predatory bludgeons
is dying downriver. Diving downriver into
the baptism that overflows with shalom.

Let us listen; the peaceful sounds are shouted,
more like trumpets than cannons,
and the children will lead the victory parade
from downtown to battlegrounds now refurbished
for picnics and play. All the sun does is
tickle the river below. A lightshow,
a spectacle of wine-cheered rejoicing that
earth is bubbling with the laughter of children who
will
never ever study
war again.