Much of life seems to be waiting,
In spaces between events.
And somehow all I want to do in those silences
Is fill them with speech.
Better yet to forego the making of many words
And instead sit quietly for a while,
Being, not doing,
Letting God do the heavy lifting.
Time waits for no body
But the one who hangs above the Skull.
I can wait a day,
And anticipate the hatching of the Sun.
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to keep silence, and a time to speak…”
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 7b
(Liturgical poetry during Lent is inspired by the Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. Photo by Linnea Wheeler)