Where is the whisper of God? I cannot find his voice behind the dark walls and that surround me day by day, week by week, month by month. I find myself wandering in a dark maze, tripping on junk, stumbling into walls. Lost. Nowhere to rest, nowhere to hide, nowhere to ponder and listen. The noise is constantly chattering, clamoring; screaming from the walls that envelope me and sky that closes in over me.
The whisper of God. I have heard it before. In the sound of the rain and the drops of the sun. The coddling of a nursing babe at my breast. The walks with the trees, the murmurs of rushing water, the ramblings of robins, the brushes with nature. The cool breeze that rushes through my skin, the snow that brushes against my cheeks. The blue moon that lights up the crackling snow at midnight.The sounds of laughter from children. The back door open with muddy feet running in and out. The dog that says "I love you" when you come home.
Where is the whisper of God? Somewhere I have lost Him. I do not know how to find him in the weeds, the noise, pollution, and walls of buildings. Nature is nowhere to be found in the clattering of suburbia. Lost, I am. Deaf I have become. I want to be with the trees again. The scorching heat, the stifling air, the sound of planes, the lack of beauty. It keeps me at bay. I stay behind my safe walls and hide. Dark in the cell, I have become a prisoner. Locked away, I hide and stare at this mess I have made and this mess I have become.
