there is a space within me

sometimes it feels as if it has been

scooped and hollowed out by God

who waits patiently for the invitation

and then

like a cat

will curl up on the hearth of my heart

sometimes it feels as if it has been

chipped and mined and the black coal hauled

so that God can fill it with grace and benediction

sometimes it feels as if it has been

ripped out of me by life’s wild horses

and God has nothing to do with it

but by implication

for the part torn out of me

is you

we are afraid of silence

the agonised silence of the cross

and the silence of God in that hanging

we are afraid of silence

the silence of the space after our prayerful call

and the silence of our own voice inarticulate

we are afraid of silence

the silence of the empty room of our grief

and the silence of those who fear their own tongue

we are afraid of silence

the silence of a complicit world before its own pain

and the silence of those who turn away

we are afraid of silence

the silence of the dark soul-night

and the silence of the answer that returns in that darkness

we are afraid of silence