In the stillness of a winter day Noiseless teardrops make their way Down the landscape of my face Like frozen and irregular icicles They create rivers and lakes Along my cheeks and around my chin Where, once separated Tributaries meet and start their descent Falling as gently as the miracle of snow surrounding me They are soundless thunder As they splash upon the cold ground Spilling all the secrets of my broken heart… A silent storm
Lightning images of my past Illuminate the skyline of my mind Holding my icy heart prisoner Gated by hurt, padlocked with pride The warden of fear controls my every move My immature self remains hidden away, Peering through the bars of my jail window As the rest of the world passes me by Barely taking notice of my condition And those who do, avert my eyes Shake their heads and hurriedly pass Barely acknowledging The wasteland of my silent struggle
In this same barren stillness A voice speaks to me Behind the darkness of my pain Touching me…warming me It illuminates my soul Thawing a core That for years now has been cold And inexplicably, in this vast and lonely place I reach beyond my fears To grab hold of its soul-rendering strength-- The blessed peace of but a few words He speaks to me…