Poetry

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FAINTLY ON A MOONBEAM’s SONG



Still ...
The hour newly born
On which the cricket serenade
I strain to hear
Holds melody now strangely silenced
In the darkness of this night

But the void is not
A void known first
In the beginning of beginnings
When first God created

Not a primal soup
But a formlessness
For want of melody
Over which the Spirit hovered
Protective
Watching
Waiting

Back I’m drawn
To that place
A time before time
That deep
Feeling more home
Than this space
Now knowing me

Formless
Void
Where the Spirit of God
Hovers again
Over me
Awaiting the melody
“Let there be …”

I was
And am
The vast waters
On which Light falls
Cradled in the Spirit’s care
Where the Voice
Seeing into the darkness
Detects a treasure
On which to pour out Himself

A treasure of His design
Image bearer
In His Creator eye
A spark of I AM
Waiting to burst into flame
Upon tasting His breath

A breath imbedded so deeply
Within His seeing
I feel home
Nowhere but in His Presence

Safe
Known
Deeply desired
In this quiet moment
Where darkness rests
Cricket serenades
But a remembered strain
Carried faintly on a moonbeam’s song






© DeAnna Brooks
September 2006

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