Saturday, December 29, 2012

Queueing-up for the New Year

Mystery hushes us. It blasts away incessant mind-chatter. It chokes words into silence.

We stand at the edge of the canyon; or by the side of the sea; or at the foot of a mountain. Quiet. Awe.

Vows exchanged by glistening eyes, clammy hands and trembling voices.

Hearing, It's cancer.

The birth of a healthy new child.

Holding-onto a dear friend as they breath their last.

And now we queue-up to a new year. We hear a whisper pleading with us: Take off your shoes, This is holy ground. 

Will we remove them? Will we listen? Do we believe?

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