Categories
Poetry

When silence finds its way between the soft

by Michael Bailey

When silence finds its way between the soft
seconds of a hushed reminder,
the unquiet dark will soon fill the void with ragged cacophonies:
alarms and buzzers,
the steady tick of irrelevant deadlines,
the restless pace of lighted dials.
It is a futile attempt
When the second hand of arteries and valves stop with
a silent sigh of relief, there will be only a soft hush of inner 
and outer darkness nestled in the light.


Music of the Cells

It is the music that changes us,
	The happy hum of well-being
	The shrill scream of illness
Like miniature whales, we moan 
In the vast sea, calling out to each other,
Calling out to the Other.
A pod of harmony
Until the song is stilled
And the crackle of static signals
Our descent into the deep.









When silence finds its way between the soft
seconds of a hushed reminder,
the unquiet dark will soon fill the void with ragged cacophonies:
alarms and buzzers,
the steady tick of irrelevant deadlines,
the restless pace of lighted dials.
It is a futile attempt
When the second hand of arteries and valves stop with
a silent sigh of relief, there will be only a soft hush of inner 
and outer darkness nestled in the light.


Music of the Cells

It is the music that changes us,
	The happy hum of well-being
	The shrill scream of illness
Like miniature whales, we moan 
In the vast sea, calling out to each other,
Calling out to the Other.
A pod of harmony
Until the song is stilled
And the crackle of static signals
Our descent into the deep.
The Grammar of Life

The grammar comes 
from the consonants and the verbs 
from the sentences: 
	simple, complex, compound
	compound-complex; 
from phrases strapped on for effect
nouns sometimes become nouns and verbs themselves
	doing double duty 
	the only way in which to wrench sense 
	out of the extreme nonsense 
	that pours from our heart, our soul.

The words hang before us, 
	invisible, 
	children of our breath, 
	incarnated in lines and circles,
spirit becoming flesh
with a cry that comes from the silence 
between heart beats.

But do we ever
	capture the experience
	get it correct with the stick figures and ovals
capture the rapture
		of sunrise
		of sunset
where transcendence gives birth to metaphor and simile
between the white spaces 
and meaning scuttles among the vowels and consonants.


Music of the Cells is excerpted from Strange Vibrations: Doctors May Soon Listen to the Music of Your Cells by Monika Rice Spirituality & Health The Soul/Body Connection March/April 2005.

Michael Bailey is a graduate of the University of West Georgia and Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. He served 12 years in pastoral and educational ministries. His poems, columns, and short stories have appeared in the Yale Journal for Humanities in Medicine, THE POLISH-JEWISH HERITAGE FOUNDATION OF CANADA /newsletter, National Christian Reporter, The Christian Index, Journal of Secondary Gifted Education, Wellspring, and Resurgens, and The Chattahoochee Review.

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