In the spaces between
family name
schools
group membership
we live alone
to know ourselves.
To belong to the wider world
fills us with vulnerability.
In groups of family or friends
we risk being lost.
Lost in
ideas,
opinions
beliefs
image
until we know that
belonging begins in
the silence of in-between.
“Longing, felt fully, carries us to belonging.”
~ Tara Brach, psychologist
Soft silence fills my home
as day becomes the night;
afternoon laughter and caring
with friends are sweet memories
for tomorrow and beyond.
“As long as there is friendship, today is beautiful.”
~ Billie Joel
I like Sundays.
In old memories.
attitudes shifted for
that Sunday moment.
A feeling of more
air to breathe.
I’ve not been
in a church
for many years,
but the silence is
a morning hymn.
I like Sundays.
“In the midst of the storm, your life boat appears. A psalm,
a hymn, a word…calming the fiercest winds of the soul.”
~ Roderick l. Evans, author
A little bird
told me a secret
that everyone knows.
That Christmas Eve
is a time to sit still
at day’s end.
To breathe deep
of the silence
and remember.
Our memories,
happy or sad,
are perched
around us as
ornaments on our tree.
“Night, when words fade and things come alive.”
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery
 |
| Wascana Lake, Regina, Sask November 2020 |
I walked last night with two friends. Lake Okanagan was still. It was -7C.
Lights lined the waterfront
and climbed through the city
spread into the hills.
Snow fell delicately
crystalled white flakes
against a darkened sky.
A light breeze persuaded
these sparklets of ice to
slip sideways through
dried leaves and drifting
golden willow branches.
Veils of steam rose in
fine clouds that hovered
inches from the lake’s
glassy black surface.
Crunching, matched footsteps of
three bundled up women
broke through snow and silence,
covered ears and crisp footsteps
quieted any words wandering away
on puffs of breath into the snow drift.
An ever faithful flock of ducks huddled
~ warm to warm ~ green and brown heads
tucked under shining wings out of the cold.
Water blocks stared at the marina ~
glossy, black and empty ~
spaces beside the dock
where few boats wintered,
blanketed with snow and
resting in the stillness.
I walked last night with two friends.
Lake Okanagan was still.
It was -7C.
“Silence is a source of great strength.”
~ Lao Tzu
Author’s note: Snow fell as silently today in Regina, but evoked the same emotions as this poem from Kelowna, Dec. 13, 2000. Such a silent snow fall is gentle and kind.
There was a storm coming.
a storm and a struggle
and I learned to say ‘no’
no umbrella would suffice
for the wild winds coming
because I learned to say ‘no’
silence crashed in the midst
being brave was a never thing;
only in daring stories, but
because ‘no’ meant different
ways, I learned to act bravely
to step aside when storms brew
with heat and turmoil in the air
and storms will always pass.
“Out of difficulties grow miracles.”
~ Jean de la Bruyère
French philosopher and moralist
1645 ~ 1696
When leaves of trees are still
white puffs of cloud hold aloft
When air holds silence until
beautiful music slow dances
When evening light darkens
my breath slows and softens
When leaves of trees are still,
tiny stars wish all a good night.
“…So let us welcome peaceful evening in.”
~ William Cowper
(1731 ~ 1800)
Cruising down dusty roads,
while asphalt traipses across our land, is a thing of the past. The roads of my memory do still exist, gravelled and bumpy, dust rising in
clouds from passing grain trucks or in puffs from my sneakered feet when
I just walked
to feel the silence of the prairie
punctuated by meadow larks and kildeer,
grasshoppers, bees and wasps; to feel
the burn of the sun that freckled my nose,
the wind tousling my hair ~ these old memories
take me out to just walk and learn the silence
of the city within its rumble and thrum.
“Walking is man’s best medicine.”
~ Hippocrates
"Silence is the entrance to the deepest me." I read that in a poem by Sylvia Frances Chan. I understood but had never known it before
When the deepest me is blanketed by tiredness ~
maybe physical,
maybe melancholy,
maybe both ~
I can only rest ’til step by step I shed, like dust, what has settled in me until I feel alert
but already I have been awake all day, slowly busy, healing parts of my soul that seemed bruised, but only needed rest.
“I’ve begun to realize that you can listen to silence and
learn from it. It has a quality and a dimension all its own.”
~ Chaim Potok, The Chosen
Tenderness is so sweet
~ a drop of honey
to ease aches
with a silent balm.
“If we are not the ones to open up to tenderness within ourselves, who will?”
~ Petra Poje, Keeper of the Eye
Comfort in the silence of frost
until my cheeks burned
with winter’s cold
Memories of a day
when my skin burned
with summer’s heat
Silent frost will sparkle and dance
melting with warming sun to
disappearing wherever it lands
Memories sparkle and dance
melting with the warmth of time
disappearing into the frost of age
Comfort in the silence of frost
where smiles and sorrows blend
with winter’s wisdom.
“Silence at the proper season is wisdom, and better than any speech.”
~ Plutarch
