hidden beneath the dented shield
of my consciousness,
is the Silence
that rescues from the eye of the storm.
Life, with its barrage of
attention demanding urgencies
showed no mercy or respite
as she hurled them -
intending to injure me vitally
use me up
succumbing to the vortex
sucked into the deafening roar
which is the messenger of defeat.
Where is the Hand?
Where is the Sure Hand that will rescue me?
Through eyes blinded by the hurricane of fear
I glimpsed the Finger -
the same Finger that touched Adam
as he appeared abandoned in that far place.
I stretched, I pleaded -
I grasped for the Hand -
I touched the Finger with my finger -
Like a conductor
the Silence flowed into the secret place, hard to find
and rescued me
from the eye of the storm.