In the fields behind my house
Weeds high enough to cover my head
It was there I first talked to God
As the weeds whooshed with the wind
I heard his voice…it was soft
Deep
But each word spoken was this melodic sound
Soothing my soul
I heard his voice
And in his voice I found myself

Memories abound of those conversations we had
He would ask of my day, give me hope when I was down
He was my best friend

In time when I spoke openly of these
I was ridiculed
Said to have an over imaginative mind
When I told him this…he cried

As tears flowed and mixed with mine
That river of tears separated me from that commune

In my teens I cried out again to him
Praying for answers that didn’t come my way
Alone
Disgusted
Dismayed
And mad
For it seemed he abandoned me

Teenage rebellion sat in as if to show him my hurt
but it only ended in self inflicted wounds
Bleeding uselessly

In time I found my answers within
Hidden deeply past my self wounded scars
Where god had placed them years ago
Before my birth

Today I hear his voice
Through my friends
Nieces
Songs
And poetry

His voice still soothes me as a child resting within my grandmother’s arms

His voice can be heard in…
Langston Hughes
Sigur Ros
And many new found friends
And his voice can be heard in you
Do you hear his voice?

And yes at times, I get lost within the dance of life
And loose my hearing when I look at you as mine
To hold
Not sharing with anyone
And it is then
I remember
His voice must be shared and not kept alone

So remember like me
To listen to his voice
In the everyday of life
in those who cross our paths
And if you do…your life will be deeper
Than ever before

Listen

Be still and know I am god

Be still and know

Be still

Be…

11/02/2004

Posted on 01/27/2005
Copyright © 2024 Mark Maxey