God, it seems

You’re quiet

While outside there’s noise

The promise of a storm


You could be speaking through

The storm, I guess

I’ve never known you that way

Though there are limits

On my listening


Maybe if I were shaman-wise

I’d understand your language

In the trees

And through the rain

And if the thunder means

You’re angry or

You’re sad or making declarations

Or nothing of the sort

Since I’m sure

The flowers speak as well

As all things

On their own


You split the sky

The earth rises

Smaller creatures scurry

They know where


We’re here, and

We don’t understand

All that would be given

If we didn’t try

To take it first


God, this is

A prayer

For peace among ourselves

So we might get

The message sent

That everything and

Everyone has voice

Especially the quiet


And with our senses

And with more

We might receive the word

That starts

The universe

And also

Brings us home together


C L Couch



Photo by Glenna Hopper on Unsplash

Isle of Sky