There’s a sound that echoes from the earth on days like today;
It spans the spectrum of the audible to the inaudible,
And emanates from the animate and the inanimate.
It is such a unique breathtaking sound:
A rolling, roaring, rushing, rising, whirling, spreading,
Bubbling, soul-stirring, ascending cascade of thoughts and postures;
A sound tellingly tangible and very visible in the right light.
It is filled with demands, accusations, confessions, flatteries,
Mirth, sadness, pain, reverence, disdain, affront, gratitude;
And an inexhaustible list of other states of the human condition,
Together with the various states and cries of nature.
I wonder what my part is in this potpourri…
What substance have I contributed consciously or unconsciously?
Ought it not be gratitude – reverent, pure and abundant;
Ought it not be praise – unending, sweet-smelling and glorious;
Ought it not be worship – on bended knees, with lifted hands;
Ought it not be far more than I’ve given, beyond what I have attested to?
Must they be confined to the heart, or roll off my tongue without passion,
Must they be unknowable from my semblance, undecipherable from my gait;
Must they be dragged from my soul with nets and hooks and enticements;
Must they be stained by the muddy waters upon which they ride?
I’ve always dreaded the day it would come –
The day words would fail me.
Some call it “Writer’s block”, I call it ‘Today’;
But even when words fail me, Grace doesn’t.
Grace takes the ‘blankness’ and starts to list and polish…
Little things, big things, unimaginable things,
Things taken for granted; Things whose worth had not been understood.
Things so weighty one would think words would not be able to describe.
Grace writes till there is no more space…
Grace says: “Be grateful for Love, for Life, for Peace…
For so many things not sold, and that cannot be bought;
And be grateful for “Writer’s block” and days like ‘Today’,
Or you wouldn’t know I could write better than you.”