The Spirit moves. Sometimes in the fiercest cyclones. Far more often in the softest whispers.
The story of Elijah experiencing the Presence of the Lord in the “small, still voice” comes to mind. The Spirit manifests in the gentle nudge that prompts us to the action–or inaction–best suited for the situation we face. When we pay attention, that is.
And that is why we need to turn down the noise. If we can’t be quiet, how do we expect to hear? If we don’t hear, how do we expect to listen? If we don’t listen, then the softest whisper remains ignored.
We then pursue our course to our peril.
We say what should remain unsaid: remain silent when we should cry out from the rooftops. We do, and do badly: don’t do, and important work remains undone.
Surely we’ve all witnessed enough consequences from those decisions.
When we listen to the softest whisper, we live like we write. We become still and let our subject rise. We align our intention to it, and act in harmony with that intention. We see what we’ve done, and adjust, if needed. Our life, then, becomes our poetry, and all our poems incarnations of our life.
If we dare to listen.
we prize you only in our
behold the sorrows we sow
from the lip service we pay
Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Of Poems (posted by Sumana)