No self-praise. No self-pity.
More Than Silence (9/26/07)
There is a child outside my door
she asks if I will take her in.
In a moment she will disappear
if I am silent
for silence is also an answer.
With little hands and a heavy heart
she crawled into this world
cried once, and then was told
no one would hear her.
She asks but expects not to be heard
and will continue to disappear
as long as we are blind.
There is a child at my door
waiting to be let in
but waiting more to disappear,
her little feet balanced
on the precarious steppe of the human heart.
The prayer of Heaven and its fledging souls
is that our porches might hereafter be empty
and our homes filled
with