Whisper from Within
November 5, 2019
O God, whose hand hath spread the sky
And all its shining hosts on high,
And painting it with fiery light,
Made it so beauteous and so bright
(Text: Cæli Deus sanctissime, attributed to
Saint Gregory the Great, 540-604)
The air not wishing me to ponder it, neither chills nor
Thrills. This is an hour set aside, when counting slowly
Downwards, the heart settles without fading away.
Evening light the colour of rosegold gladioli scampers
Across a broad sweep of sky blue, weaving itself over
And around neighbouring rooftops before spilling
Through the windows. Lavishing over me like falling
Blossoms from an over-flowering crepe myrtle in June, the
Sort of Summer snowfall children in the South enjoy.
Just outside stands an oak tree, dressed in the finest craggy
Bark and dried-up moss, its long arching limbs unperturbed
By gravity's pull – a highway to some – offering shelter to an
Assortment of critters. Its branches close enough for me, to
See tiny green acorns forming amidst the leaves. A breeze
Wonders through the tree as I close my eyes…
…in its wake an unwelcome question rises…imposing itself…
“How close are you, Lord?”
Whatever remains of daylight quickly releases the sky to
Shades of beguiling blues. Playfully elusive blues yielding
Their impressions to artistic works of hand and eye!
Once again huddled beneath the sapphire jeweled
Mantle of nightfall, I bow my head in modest supplication
Soothed by Your gracious assurance.
Written by Hannah De Lisser