My Idle Feet Moved

There was no voice,

or perhaps a voiceless voice -

so soft, small,

it could only be heard

just beyond the edges

of hearing.

It sang anyway,

that voiceless voice.

It ran through my body

and burned my hands

that lay idle at my side.

It drummed a beat

that moved my heart,

that moved my feet

in surprising syncopation.

Not a waltz,

nor a tango,

but my idle feet,

idle as my hands -

my idle feet

Moved.

They danced with the

voice that was no voice

that had no sound,

but it sang in my heart

and burned my hands

and beat in steady rhythm

and so I danced.

and sang the song
of the voiceless,

and stumbled on broken bits

of shattered tablets.

For Isaiah 1:17