The silence the silence the silence was

my life, 

watching the innkeeper laugh with his belly

and seeing that little girl make mysteries with her lips.

A dead quiet world of goings and 

doings of which the why

was hid.

It was a strange deliverance I had, bumping and

stumbling and trailing along toward some unknown

something or one.

They dragged and pulled with faces grinning and gestures and beckoning and 

I came trusting.

Then Love looked at me.

Love touched me, ear and tongue. 

I stood meekly apart from gazers while Love spoke with spit and fingers a message for me alone. 

Hope wiggled in my heart like a fish.

Word Planter spoke skyward and I

heard

and believed.

James 1:21b, Mark 7:32-37