A Poem on Being Still

It’s easier to hide behind a pen

Than saying things out loud.

It’s easier to detangle thoughts through my fingers

Than to quietly




I hear the voice.

But how?

I journal and pray there daily.


I hear proclaimed again.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

I reply.


I set down my pen.

And I think.

So many decisions,

but I can’t hear anything.

Be still.

It is suggested that I fast

by someone who’s opinion I trust.

And so I didn’t write.

For four days.


Writing is how I think.

It’s how I communicate.


Four days?

 But it’s possible.

Anything is.

Anything is possible when God’s there.

And though I didn’t hear

The answer I was looking for,

I heard




I didn’t think I did,

Until I processed in my journal after.

Then I was sure.

Is that cheating?

Probably not.


Sometimes, we must be still

to see what’s going on around us or

inside ourselves.


God is there, waiting for us to listen.

What is listening?

How do we do it?

Everyone’s God language is different,

So I can’t tell you.

I’m not sure I can tell you mine,

though I know I’ve heard him many times.


Be still.







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