For most of us, there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
The distraction fit lost in a shaft of sunlight,
Hints followed by guesses; and the rest
Is prayer, observance, discipline,
thought and action.
The hint half guessed, the gift half understood,
is incarnation.
In prayer the stilled voice learns to hold its peace,
to listen with the heart to silence that is joy, is
adoration. The self is shattered, all words torn apart
in this strange patterned time of contemplation that,
in time, breaks time, breaks words, breaks me, and then,
in silence, leaves me healed and mended.