Member Poem

What a moment of near perfect peace,
passing under a bridge
while the skies are agape.
Exposed to the clouds, who race
to the earth, it seems as if
each drop on the window
erases one memory of silence.
 
Just as I forget the quietness
of my past, I reach a bridge,
and the second of nothing
puts all things in place.
Bridge after bridge,
noiselessness grows louder,
and I begin to find it in the storm.
Where the rain makes sound,
there first must be
stillness.
 
I find that this too
slips my mind over time,
but before long,
fate brings an underpass.
As the bridge mutes the downpour,
so Your spirit mutes the world,
my God.