Listen

 I can hear it in the silence

of my ancestors.  Between

their stories breathes a

terse quiet

 

too large for mere

words.  They call it

 

the Voice still

and small.  It rings

under my ribs,

 

an unstopped bell

in the center of my

wholeness.

 

It took 60 years to sense

its strange music

 

but I am going along,

and as I go, I listen.

 

J. Pratt-Walter, © 2021