God is the clatter of silverware on plates,
warm voices woven into a hum over a family dinner.
God is the rush of waves onto the seashore,
the whistling wind which moves through one’s ears,
accentuated only by the cries of gulls.
God is a sob, which swells and exposes itself in a burst,
broken by quick intakes of breath and sniffles from a reddened nose.
God is the crescendo of a song,
whose melody raises your heart from your chest and
the hairs on your arm,
notes, instruments, and voices blending to form something
truly whole.
God is the silence found when you are alone--
when your ears strain for sound, only to find the faint
murmur of your pulse--
steadily throbbing life beating behind your eardrum.
warm voices woven into a hum over a family dinner.
God is the rush of waves onto the seashore,
the whistling wind which moves through one’s ears,
accentuated only by the cries of gulls.
God is a sob, which swells and exposes itself in a burst,
broken by quick intakes of breath and sniffles from a reddened nose.
God is the crescendo of a song,
whose melody raises your heart from your chest and
the hairs on your arm,
notes, instruments, and voices blending to form something
truly whole.
God is the silence found when you are alone--
when your ears strain for sound, only to find the faint
murmur of your pulse--
steadily throbbing life beating behind your eardrum.
To hear God is simple, if one simply listens.
Lauren White
Gettysburg College, PA
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