go to previous poem
Listen to the silence,
Hear the high pitched note,
As it passes through the brain,
And thickens in a clot.
It saturates the air,
Suspended like clear fog,
A noise triggers through it,
But is swallowed up and robbed.
Suffocating silence!
Let noises thin the air,
And faint the powerful current,
That's always generated there.
Written by Wilma McWatters, about 1963
These words came to Wilma about 15 years before we found the Religious Society of Friends; but they may help to explain why Wilma, like many others, felt that the experience of her first Quaker Meeting for Worship was “like coming home”.
|
go to previous poem
|
Return to Wilma's memorial page |
go to next poem
|
| Last updated 2013-03-12. To make these pages as accessible as possible, I try to adhere to HTML 4.0 standards. |
|
|
| I welcome comments on this website. However, because of the amount of spam it attracts, I no longer post a direct e-mail address on this page. Instead, please click here to contact me. You will have to confirm that you are a human (not a spam-bot) before the message will be sent on to me. | ||