Monday, January 14, 2013


The silence holds an orchestra; its Maestro is our thought
And oh, the tender beauty of its soft, soulful requiem
Fills with an earnest solace the vast void of what is not
And lights the wick that once burned wildly with a daring dream
The sinister employment of our dubious tendencies
Dissolves upon the lilting notes of effervescent cheer
Be gone regret, and all its suffocating memories
The music of this silence weeps a sweeter sort of tear
…it will not pause to flounder in the dismal darkness where
We grapple with the conflict of desire and despair

This Maestro does not paint its smile with pretense or disguise
The measure of its tempo wraps us in love’s true embrace
No digital enhancements, no lip-syncing and no lies
For Thought is the discerner of the man behind the face
And oh, the sweet redemption that we seek for being us
And oh, the fervent longing to be heard and understood
At last spills free into a silence filled with what once was
But is no more; for Thought convicts where no man would or could
My failure and regret would be far more than I could bear
Forgiveness not for others, but for self ignites a tear

…the silence is not shattered as it falls upon my cheek
The Maestro gently nods but does not seek to quell its flow
A melody of grace-proportion fills unfathomed deeps
Its cadence fills the vault from whence the timeless night-winds blow
As mercy not ordained by what mortality deems fit
But from the One that tunes the Maestro in its rendering
Absolves me from a reckoning that flesh cannot acquit
And only in the utterance of full surrendering
Can I at last descry the melody that tunes the soul
As Maestro yields its baton to the One that makes us whole

© Janet Martin


  1. Oh Janet
    This has a beautifully haunting quality! I'm in awe of your voice :D
    Thank you~


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