Lindy Thompson

He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”  Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. 

— 1 Kings 19:11-12

I have been told
that God is in the silence.

Trouble is,
I am in the silence, too,
and I am not silent.

Thoughts dart at my head
like birds defending a nest.
I seek peace,
only to get dive-bombed by fast-moving thoughts.

I have heard
if you remain still
and neither retreat nor attack,
the birds will get used to you.
It might get worse before it gets better,
but eventually,
they will grow accustomed to your nonthreatening presence
and retreat quietly to their nest,
leaving you to breathe,
undisturbed,
in God’s creation.

I want that.
I need that.
I need the sheer silence
that is God.

I need my scattered self to leave me alone
so I can remember
who made me,
remember
to whom I belong.

I need to wait patiently
amidst the darting thoughts
until they calm,
until, slowly rising to my notice,
comes awareness,
like sunshine,

the warm weight
of the holy
resting on my head,

the quiet,

the blessing.