Writer Between Worlds

at the heart of the world

there can be only silence.

the solitude

of contemplating God.

at the heart of the world

there is

a slight summer breeze,

the purple sweetness of acacia snowing down

(dry blossoms piling quietly by the curb),

the glowing peace of the evening,

and church bells scintillating.

at the heart of the world

there is

an ocean of womanhood.

the Red Sea of love and voiceless despair,

the lonely, gentle caress of a virgin

for her child.