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The Voice

by John van de Laar

© 2002 Sacredise

I read of times when the Voice of God was heard;

        thunderous times of tangible awe and audible law

              and my heart ached.

I yearned to hear God speak, but somehow He remained silent

        and the hazy golden-violet glory of the sun turning to rest

        seemed like a whisper almost recognised

              but quickly stilled.

 

Once I thought I heard the Voice,

        and I snapped to attention waiting on the command

I would have done anything if I'd just been told

              walked a world or sailed a storm

        If only He'd asked me

But, the sound retreatedand I imagined

        a divine disappointment

              in the enclosing quiet.

  

Then, like a quiet surprise on a fragile breeze

        I sensed an arm, light as a dandelion

        resting on my shoulder and asking to stay

And as I lingered under that nourishing touch

        it was as if the whole world

              person and plant, creature and void

        sang with the Voice

And called me 'friend'.

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