To know the click of latches as the case closes upon the bugle. To know the silence of armor hanging on a nail. To know the beating of the blacksmith’s hammer forging the sword into a plowshare. To hear the bleating of the lamb as it folds it legs and lies next to the lion. To hear the dove’s wings as she returns with a sprig of green to tell of the flood’s end. To look up and see naught but the rainbow. To know an ordinary day.
The sound of the alarm awakens my mind but the voice of Love calls to my heart. She may not herself be completely awake. In her waking she whispers, “I love you. Look not to what is not nor listen for the sounds that are silent. Feel my breath upon your cheek. Take my hand and lean into me. Let us dance a dervish with Life. Those sounds you would silence are but a whisper to my voice. Good morning Beth, come dance with me.”
Why would I wish an ordinary day when the voice of Love offers nothing less than extraordinary?
About Me
- Beth Chapman
- Owatonna, Minnesota, United States
- I have begun a path, though I know not where, to a journey’s end that is calling. Along the way I pause to absorb the metaphors and images of this life, which are so precious. Here you shall find me brave, you shall find me pondering, you shall find me searching, and you shall find me collecting the images and metaphors like shells upon the beach. I am very much like the little monkey wearing a dapper hat, playing the cymbals and drum and dancing a jig. I do not have it all figured out, I may be learning to write, but one thing I do know and that is how to collect the shells on the beach of my beloved Gulf Shores. I offer these shells to you.
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