As we have begun to cruise through December (is it really just the 4th?) I have found myself craving silence. As the noise and hubbub in our culture at large grows, so does my need to step away for a minute each day and just be quiet. Ironically, the meditation practice I had been nurturing throughout October and December is lagging due to increased demands upon my time and worries in my brain. This is a sad reality, as I actually need more time in meditation as we approach the holidays and not less. Not only to keep my sanity intact, but to get to a place where I might find the meaning behind all the busyness.

As I said before, sometimes it is the silence that speaks to our hearts the loudest.

With that being said, I am going to let my voice rest and share the words of others with you for a while. I offer you a poem by my talented friend, Anya Silver. You can find a whole book of her outstanding poems by clicking here.  

Advent, First Frost

 

Something has descended

like a feathered prophecy.

Someone has offered the world

a bowl of frozen tears,

has traced the veins and edges

of leaves with furred ink.

The grass is stiff as the stings of a lute.

And, day by day, the tiny windows

crack their cardboard frames,

seizing the frail light. The sun,

moving through

these waxy squares, undiminished

as a word passing

from mind to speech.

Every breath a birth,

a stir of floating limbs within me.

I stay up late and waken early

to feel beneath my feet

the silence coming.

May you too have the grace to feel the silence coming.

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