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Monday, January 15, 2018

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



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