Poem about...

Silence.

Not even a pin drop or whisper.

Just a hollow dull hush surrounded by

White walls and empty halls.

It’s deafening itself to not hear a thing,

Not the slightest hum or ring.

No voice to break the nothingness

All is blank and quietness.

My own voice cries out in the midst

But it seems to bounce off the blanks and disappear

As if there was no one to hear

Or worse yet, I fear,

That this silence must mean

He doesn’t care anymore.

But I know that can’t be true

Because He said, “I will never leave you

Or forsake” and that’s a promise

That He did make for times

Like these when everything feels

Empty and deserted.

So since He isn’t answering me

And I know He continues to hear and see

Because He is not indifferent

But compassionate, He must be choosing

To hesitate to teach me

Something large and great.

Dear God, is it the white spaces that

Give the world its meaning? Is that

What I should be gleaning from this test?

Because now that I think about it,

The blank page is what prepares the writer to start

To pour out the feelings caught up in their heart.

And the pauses in a song

Are what takes each note and beat

And turns them into something complete

And we call it music.

Otherwise it would run together

And just be noise to us.

Is that it Jesus?

Do You want me to see

That it is the empty spaces on the wall

That makes those paintings in

The artist’s hall stand out?

For surely if they were all fused into one

It would just be colors and confusion.

Are you silent to let me ponder on

The promises you have already given?

Is that what I’ve been missing and postponing

In the midst of all my whining and moaning

And giving up on You?

Lord, teach me in the silent times,

While I’m surrounded by white blanks,

To pour out my heart in praises,

Gratitude and thanks.

Make my heart stronger,

Deepen my weak faith, lift up my head

And let me feed on more than bread,

Instead let it be all the precious words You have said.

Let me get more out of it than

Assuming Your cruelty or neglect to me.

Try my soul in the fire of

Silence.

©Allix Brunson 8/6/11


This poem was inspired by excerpts from this sermon my pastor preached last Sunday.