Be Still.

RenéE Christine Ehle

Eighth Day


 

In the beginning was a void, an absence,

less than silence.  

 

Then, there was wood, and a lathe.  

Smoothed and varnished.  Wool washed 

 

and felted, wires pulled 

taut between pegs.  A hammer, 

 

more than one.  

Pedals, rods, bone.  

 

Then, fingers:  

Notes and chords, arpeggios.

 

And there was music, 

and there was rest. 

 

And God heard, 

and God 

 

sang.

Diane Calvert, Flight into Egypt

Steve barnwell, So Close

Why, why, why?

Volume 1

Shaped by the names we dare call Yahweh,

So we pray and pray and make some more.

Lord! Have mercy!