As/Is

9.30.2006

The "Rushing" Sound

We build the house
that leans

towards its destruction.

We turn the ear
that listens

to its lumber
creaking.

If silence is the Word
of God, what sound

is suffering?

What mother sings
when soldiers

fall? Whose emptied

arms explain
this hollow

feeling?

When a child
learns to speak,

a voice

weighs nothing.

When a bird
learns to fly

it understands
the gravity

of bone,

the sanctity
of thresholds-

rising
and falling,

living
and ceasing,

fearing
and abiding

the rushing
sound-

the circumstantial
heaviness

of its own
wing.

posted by Rachel Phillips on Saturday, September 30, 2006

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Life described so vividly and reflectively. Enjoyed this poem.

# posted by  Don Iannone, D.Div., Ph.D. on 6:19 AM

 

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