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Silence: A Poem
by Whitney R. Simpson She is my companion yet I avoid her gaze She is my teacher yet I push back at her instruction She is my guide yet I veer from her course She is my friend yet I wonder why she comes near She is my gift and I long to savor her more fully She is inviting me to a oneness with God, listen...do you hear her? Why not? I avoid her gaze because at first she looks lonely I push back at her instruction because of my own agenda I veer from her course because I am easily distracted I wonder why she comes near because there is always another choice Yet I long to savor her like never before And once I say yes to her I receive an awareness I never knew she could introduce to me She is my companion, my teacher, my guide, my friend She is God's gift Silence  Are you longing for more this Lenten season? Looking for ways to connect your body and spirit? Seeking accountability and connection along the way? Grab your copy of Holy Listening with Breath, Body, and the Spirit and join us for this online retreat.
Over 40 days, you'll receive direct support and encouragement from Whitney as well as bonus teachings using the book, Holy Listening with Breath, Body, and the Spirit. Included in your retreat is access to our new Peace Seekers online community. This Lenten season, give yourself the gift of safe space and explore God's peace in the process! Your retreat is open now with instant access to help you begin preparing for your Lenten journey. The 40-day experience will begin on Ash Wednesday, February 17, 2021. Will you join us for accountability and connection this season as we listen and prepare ourselves for Easter? Click below for full details and to register today. glimpses of his face
upon leaving the parade wisps of confetti and hurrahs floating in our brains palm branches remain scattered in our minds and one on a donkey passes by, looking, intently – as if into our very souls seven days our watching, from afar or close by perfume scents the air before a feast of delicacies spread she has broken open her heart and the vial of treasure for sharing silent tearful words of holy drops, his feet touched tainted tables in the Temple crash to the floor his voice echoing off the marble walls in defiance of mistreatment upon those come to worship, who is there in this company, over-priced dove in hand? friend/companion arranges the ill-fated movement of betrayal we ponder motive - angst, skepticism … despair or truth loft dinner for a chosen few; ‘tis good to be included what will he have new – in song or word – for us this night? night that never ended and never will garden dew, strangers’ grip, off and away we watch him disappear into the courts early morning and far too many people in the streets choices offered between the two who? who? but we have no part do we, as he appears tattered and torn, enduring, suffering interrogation and courage only the weight of that devilish cross spans our perception of the moment, his breath in our face his eyes once again in our gaze seven days to the deafening silence of death a holy week. by Rev. Mary Anne Akin, April 2020 |
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