Saturday, May 2, 2015


Madeline L'Engle is one of my author heroes.  Here she is, perhaps at her best.

I, who live by words, am
     wordless when
I try my words in prayer.  All
     language turns
To silence.  Prayer will take my words
     and then
Reveal their emptiness.  The stifled voice
To hold its peace, to listen with the
To silence that is joy, is adoration.

The self is shattered, all words torn
In this strange patterned time of
That, in time, breaks time, breaks
     words, breaks me,
And then, in silence, leaves me
     healed and mended.

I have returned to language, for I see
Through words, even when all
     words are ended,
I, who live by words, am
     wordless when
I turn me to the Word to pray.