Memos from the Middle

The Silence of the Closet

I hear you most clearly
in the silence of the closet,
with door closed
and sun streaming in the window.
The heat melds me to purpose,
and I stoop to bended knees,
praying my soul’s freedom.

I see you most dearly
when the cacophony of chaos
is locked outside my dressing room.
Just me, my clothes, and my eyes
tightly shut
as I imagine your hands outstretched
toward mine.

I feel you most nearly
when the “no” of the world
merely amplifies your “yes”
and my conviction is rewarded.
All joy,
all peace,
all love I know
from the silence
of my closet.