Absence and Silence

In the gray light before dawn, raindrops

stutter on the roof as I lie alone in bed,

a blue blanket pulled up to my chin.

A sheet of rain hides the far shore of

the lake, but I can see an orange reflection

from the headlight of a motorcycle

shimmer on the road below the cottage.

Silver threads of rain slide down the

windows near the bed and two branches

of a maple tree bend and sway like

lovers, one above the other.

An angel could descend out of the windy

sky to tell me how immeasurably

perfect all this is, but I don’t need an angel

to remind me of what I know already.

I want to hear an angel tell me

about emptiness and silence. I want

to hear about the one who is not here.

© 2011 J.M.Keating

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