The Discipline of Silence
I didn't mind the silence. After all
The years of shame that scorched me dry and dumb
His speechless season seemed a penance small
For doubting what an angel said would come.
No vision came to me, no angel voice.
I didn't mind; silence, after all,
To my appeals had long been heaven's choice.
A desert does not wait for rain to fall.
But now he sought my bed, and would recall
Night after night the fire of long-gone years.
I didn't mind the silence after; all
Night long I drenched my infant hope with tears
Till rounding belly told how in me grew
The Voice out in the Desert, sent to call
"Prepare!" Then, brimming wonder, I withdrew,
And didn't mind the silence, after all.
I didn't mind the silence. After all
The years of shame that scorched me dry and dumb
His speechless season seemed a penance small
For doubting what an angel said would come.
No vision came to me, no angel voice.
I didn't mind; silence, after all,
To my appeals had long been heaven's choice.
A desert does not wait for rain to fall.
But now he sought my bed, and would recall
Night after night the fire of long-gone years.
I didn't mind the silence after; all
Night long I drenched my infant hope with tears
Till rounding belly told how in me grew
The Voice out in the Desert, sent to call
"Prepare!" Then, brimming wonder, I withdrew,
And didn't mind the silence, after all.