Posted in Words!

BomboGenesis

This is a storm with a voice

Not all are, you know, but

This one groans and whispers and screams;

It gutters almost to silence

So you stop to strain to listen …

In the hope it has moved on.

And then, like an ancient orator

Who knows he has your full attention

Might do,

It roars back full-throated

Joined by the chorus of aching tree trunks

Bent in ways they’d rather not see.

This voice cries out, not in,

But to make a wilderness.

The silence, though frozen brittle,

Will be solace.

JPM 1.14.18

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Author:

A native of the North Shore of Boston, I currently live on Long Island, New York. I worked at Boston College as the Acting Director of The Church in the 21st Century Center until August, 2010 and served until November 2016 as Canon for Formation, and Dean of the George Mercer Jr. School of Theology of the Diocese of Long Island. I am now Rector at the Church of Saint Anselm of Canterbury in Shoreham, New York.

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