Did you ever
notice, back when you
were small—how
the answer
to your barren little
bedside prayer
was never an answer;
but pure
silence. A space
so much more
profound
than sound was,
and a reminder
that sorrow
and melancholy
not only
were there with you
always—but could
nonetheless
still feel tender,
cooling
and filling
your wild
small child's body.
For—think back;
didn't it
render you?
if just
for a split
second or two,
still—
as tranquil
quiet water;
reflecting things—not as they were
or might be later,
but just as they
were already,
before you ever kneeled
and stirred
and blurred them—
with your
wondering.
