It is Sunday and the stillness and near
silence stir memories of a lifetime
of preparing for worship. Being quiet
was a way of life, especially on Sunday
mornings as Dad tried getting closer
to God and the right words for the sermon
and Mom got my sister and I ready
softly speaking to see how close we were
to going to the church and Dad entering
a little later. There was a reverence surpassing
religion; I did not know it then, I know it now.
And how deep the respect for silence
and stillness, the preparation of being
in the presence of the unseen that could be done
when buttoning a shirt, tightening a belt,
tying shoes, running my hand across my crewcut.
I have never lost that feeling
anywhere worship is being prepared for.
I look outside, bow in my heart, refuse the urge
to speak, refuse the blasphemy of words
when none are needed.
-Byron Hoot
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