Gathering Whit

Waves froth and foam,

crashing against the beaches,
wordless cries from the silent depths:
listen! listen!
hear what cannot be voiced,
hear through the numb frustration
of all that must go unspoken.

Winds wail and whip,
wreaking and wrecking all in their path:
hear them! hear them!
a series of moanings and mournings
for all that goes unheeded, unheard,
unsaid, uncontemplated, unwritten,
of what passes understanding in the undone.

Confusions and generation gaps
obscure the presence story of all that is—
that love is and life is and all I am!
feel it! feel it!
the winds and the waves weave,
braiding into fiery tongues,
so words need no voice to speak,

But words are, that breathe life,
while unfolding wholly and fully from within
the birth and culmination of the blossom
whose song the wind carries,
whose invisible body glows in the sun,
whose object embraces subject
in perfect and timeless unity.

© 2012 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen