there is no such
thing as silence
in the calm
of any quiet
you can hear
hearts breaking
dreams dying
thanks giving
sadness singing
hope harmonizing
losses mounting
faith enduring
grace pervading
love crashing in
listen closely
listen . . .
for your name
your name
mine, too
Peace,
Milton
He did what they told him to do. He would have done anything they told him to do. He hid inside the pronoun we. (The Illusion of Separateness 189) Life is a team sport. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve uttered that sentence I’d have enough to take us all to dinner….
On the cusp of the passing of an unfair and unjust tax bill, and a couple of days after the fifth anniversary of the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary school, and on the morning that a suicide bomber killed twelve other people at a church in Pakistan, and in the light of what feels like…
progress report it’s been about two months since I tried to put words to learning to live with after market material tucked under the skin on the side of my skull I am learning to navigate dueling Bluetooths (Blueteeth?) each ear competing to host incoming sounds and then there’s the hole in my eardrum a…
I stood at the kitchen window and looked across the leftover dishes from last night’s dinner and out into the backyard because it was snowing free falling flakes the size of communion wafers dissolving as they hit the unfrozen ground ending their long lilting journey with nothing to show for it it felt important to…
One of the things the move from Durham to Guilford precipitated is my transferring from the computer store there to the one in New Haven. With the transfer also came a change in role because the position I held in Durham was not open here, which also meant a couple of weeks of training to…
As Advent begins, I am breaking my blog silence — which was not intentional. I have been writing, but my energy has been aimed at a new book called This Must Be the Place: Reflections on Home that will come out next fall thanks to the good folks at Morehouse Press. To be able to…
i’m listening
Thanks.
Milton, you are firing on all pins, my friend…
(As I tell my mom–who is an incredible artist at 80–You know? If you keep practicing…)
Thanks, Nathan. Here’s to practicing.
Peace
Milton