Be it friend or foe,
Silence shall bring woe;
For within, it carries
The deadly poison of regret.
It may be regret from your past mistakes,
Or just longing regret for
Not speaking up.
Silence is a wall,
And though it may seem small,
The deepest of darknesses,
And the saddest,
Silence is.
I: Trust
Oh God! Oh God!
I trust in You
Oh God! Oh God!
I know You will be true
but God
why must it be so hard
why must it hurt so much
to reach joy and peace
and why must my heart be strengthened
by bending and by breaking
Oh God you are my God
a bulwark never failing
(I haven't posted a poem for quite some time. This is a poem I wrote a couple of months back. It's short and sweet, and I didn't really put much effort into writing it. But still, I do hope you enjoy it!)
Padded feet crushed the snow
The glaciers ahead matched her eyes
Ice-blue, with a killer glow
She waited
Her magnificent fur dusted white
Her hunger to hunt grows
Even in the blinding light
She waited
The rush of cars and their angry horns drowned out every other sound. It was early November, and the first snow had crept down softly over night, to now fill the streets with dirty slush that splattered anxious people waiting on the corner of the sidewalk for the light to change.
Everything looks as tiny as a dragonfly,
When you are soaring in the sky.
Soaring above the highest cloud,
Everything is quiet, not loud.
Amid the silence,
You are afar from violence.
In this silent affair,
Blow freely, will your hair.
Brightly colored are your wings,
They are such beautiful things.
While soaring, you will never want to come down,
Onto the noisy streets of the town.
The silent, still darkness
Tick, tick, tick
of the kitchen clock
Shadows and quiet
Moonbeams through the window
drenching the smooth floor
in silver
Soft carpet,
hushed wind,
dark room
illuminated by colored lights
yellow and blue and red and green
strung around, weaving along the branches
of a tall evergreen
Twinkling silver and gold
hung on every bough
Glowing, magical
Soundless, beautiful
mysterious, wonder
“True freedom isn’t the ability to do whatever you want, but the ability to do what you ought.” - Pope John Paul II
Right off, I have to say thank you to Paul, whose piece "Quiet Society" has been inspiring me ever since it was written, until my thoughts have materialized into this reflection . . . It might seem a contradiction to his observations, at first, but I think I’ve really found a fascinating, paradoxical connection, underneath it all.