In the Silence

The silence of the early morning is why I wake early. I
can’t be myself without it. But as I grow in the life of faith, I feel more and
more the connection between that silence and the silence at the center of [a
mourning mother’s] cry—the silence of the down beat between the claps in a
freedom song. There is a still point in the turning world, and we practice
contemplation as we ground ourselves in that place, not apart from action, but
in the center of it.
                                                              Jonathan
Wilson-Hartgrove
____________________________________
 
I well remember 
The words of the old spiritual
 
In the morning when I rise
In the morning when I rise
In the morning when I rise
Give me Jesus
 
In the morning when I rise
In that vague darkness
In the pungent silence
 
I find the still point
 
In the crunch of the gravel beneath my feet
In the sound of the hawks cry
In the rising of the sun over the Seven Devils
 
In the black, then grey, then orange sky
In the mountain casting of its blanket of night
And rising white into the sky
 
I find the still point
 
While the world rages around me
And leaders lies and spew hate
And the forces of the law are unlawful
 
While masses protest
And radicals manipulate and agitate
And justice is subverted
 
I find the still point
 
While so much changes
While so much needs to change but doesn’t
While my mind races
And my heart aches
While if feel helpless, and sometimes defeated
 
I find the still point
 
I find that place where God is God
And I am truly me
And truth is truth
And love wins
 
And there I stop
And breathe
 
There I stand
And find the courage, and (hopefully) wisdom
the power, and love
to make it through another day
 
left foot
right foot
left foot
breathe, pray, hope, love, act
 
grounded in that place
grounded in Jesus
in the middle of it all