There are no sounds.
No sounds of you when blessing
your lands, and all there is
on and in the layers of your being.
There are no sounds
as your dawns rise the lands
to turn autumn to winter,
spring to summer sun.
There are no sounds of your prayers
whispering in the dept of soil.
Seeds deeply maturing.
Hey turning gold.
There are no sounds in the deep deep.
The high high, the lowly lowly.
Your prayer,
in every cell and pore,
every blade of grass,
whispering of ripening, ripened days.
O the silence.
The silence, so deep, still, abundant.
Ever present.
My heart expands with the knowing of it -
Your silent praying birthing seasons,
rains, the sowing growing harvesting.
Beauty surrender dancing stillness.
Emptiness, abundance of the days -
Your days, birthed in prayer -
Your prayer, ever breathing in, breathing out.
Ever giving, ever being life renewing earth.
The Earth in Prayer
2011