the song behind the noise

Your words are hard here,
and here, and here —
but I cannot get you out of my mind

Your words are kind here,
more than kind —
heartbreaking —
and I cannot get you out of my mind 

I couldn’t if I tried
(it’s the fear)
I heard a few sermons about hell
when I was young
so you will always be
at least a question

…but that fear is part
of the cloud
of anxiety and noise
that surrounds my mind
so I’d like not to focus on it

and I’d like not to focus on sin
or pain
or the groaning earth
or shame

I’d like not to focus
on the hatred
or judgement of man
or the Bible beaters
or the politics (on all the sides)
or the rulers who oppress
or the selfishness of lust
(theirs and mine)

I am trying now to focus:
to close my eyes and listen
because all I hear is noise

noise,

noise…

wait!
I remember the violets
in the grass by the baseball field
where my brother played
how bright and purple they were
when I picked them,

and I hear them

and if I am still,
I can hear my mother singing
and my father plucking strings

I can hear the kindness
of shared grief
I can hear, even, the prayers
for peace and healing
and joy

I can hear those believers
who tell me they don’t know
everything

I can hear the quiet song
that persists in this dark world
— a prayer of love
that forgives —

a gift
of secret beauty
that fills the ocean depths
creating great blue whales
and all their friends and foes 

it’s a thread of hungry beauty
that fills the galaxies
and lingers in the footprints 
of all the tiny bugs
— bright
or slight —
whose strange smallness
and diversity
fuel my curiosity

I hear you

…is it You?

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