For --

Our hearts
are strong as the Mountain's
Bones, fragile as the Butterfly's
Wing, Immortal
as Time.

A thousand things we think
might kill our souls, strengthen
what we think weak.

That strength
begins in speech,
and in the hearing.

Had He seen the thoughts
sooner
His words, though no better,
would have been the swifter
to speak the unspeakable.

It is rare for a man
who lives by the words He possesses -
the words others have left, long-forgot
and mildewing in the mud of time,
to have no words - but that
is where this man is
today.

He does not
lack the words because there are
no words, He lacks
because the words that are
are not good words - and He lacks
the words because - at times - no words,
regardless of age or language,
are the right words.

Some days, the words that make
a difference
are not those spoken
by tongue and by lip -
but those spoken by body -
by heart, and arm, and the silence
of a mind intent on healing -
not through speaking,
through gentle touch
and listening.

He would speak now
by listening, by hearing
all that you might say. Unable to hear
with the ear, His eyes will listen
to your every word.

He would hold you now
as you speak out your pain,
your rage; arms unable to enfold,
He would wrap you within His mind -
and silently curse
the miles.

_{(For -- :: April 23, 2011 @ 17:39:46)}