Poetry Thursday: The small, still voice


On the nose
or off by a mile,
you know.

You always know.

Your head will scream otherwise
because of what it wants,
a word of praise,
a veil of darkness,
a parallel universe
where, apparently,
the clocks run backwards
time is infinite
and downsides
are all up.

Your heart
does not whisper
but neither
does it scream.
It speaks the truth
in simple terms
and waits.

And when you screw up
and give voice to the head
yet again
it remains
the small, still voice,
never angry
never loud
not even mocking.

Just a touch
of gentle bemusement
to color
the infinite love
you know exists
under everything
you know...


Image by Editor B via Flickr, used under a Creative Commons license.