Page 8 - 2019 October Listen - 13-4.pdf
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LANGUAGE
There is another world, but it is in this one– Each gust a graceful shout to the deaf?
W.B. Yeats
Unseen deep black soil, housing seeds of
This language you speak– dream,
Is not every atom an exclamation point? A womb to your goodness?
Each leaf, veins filled with fluorescent color, Do delicate flower petals not dance
A song of praise in a mighty whisper? To the loving rhythm of who you are?
Every star, seen or hidden, Do the stones and mountains not sit in
A (tw)inkling of persistent hope in the silence,
darkness? As they revel in the utterance of your breath?
Is not every drop of water Are fields of wheat not pervaded with pierced
Filled with an infinite amount of your mercy, body,
New every morning like glistening dew And grapes suffused with redeeming blood?
On a single blade of grass?
This language you speak–
Does thunder not clap for you? Is not every created thing a holy word
Do the smallest of insects not hum your Fallen from the edge of your lips?
name?
Are the birds not rapt by your bounty? Your Spirit made flesh,
Do trickling streams not trust they are a part Man of Sorrow, enamor of all,
of something grander? A poem?
Is the empty wind not brimming with your
presence, Andreas Fleps is a 26-year old poet based in the Chicago suburbs.
This webinar series is an invitation to refresh
and awaken.
Develop your own contemplative life.
Support the people you serve with greater
depth and patience.
Designed for all people who offer spiritual
care.
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