I could feel a hush in the crowd;
a murmur of discontent
as words left my lips and fell like conviction
upon empty, but, unwilling vessels.
If only words could penetrate hearts,
like birdsong through sheer curtains
on sleepy-eyed Sundays.
I can hear his harp hum
like the psalms he left;
words that pull me up and break me
leaving me here with this pen, weeping
like a poet who writes to herself
hoping a reflection of this deep, deep love
will seep through the pages
and touch a soul,
and touch a soul.