You Are a Word God Utters to Me

You are a word God utters to me,

His voice in the dark

And out of the dark

The thrumming syllables of light,

Heard in a whisper sometimes,

Sometimes a shout.

You are a word God utters to me,

Out of the throat of salvation

And out of His silence

For mine

Into the imperfect sentence of time.

You are a word God utters to me,

In the syntax of your eyes,

In the dialect of your hands.

You are God’s syllables,

His breath like a ghost in the shape of a thought,

And in the economy of His speech

You are a little air between His lips.

You are a word God utters to me,

The same word always

Which I do not always hear

The same, not being altogether fluent in the language.

You are a word God utters to me,

Neither lie, nor random, nor a second thought.

You are his diction, accent, definition,

God’s verb, His lyric, His conversation,

His rhythm, His rhyme.

You are a word God utters to me,

And I am a word with which he answers you.

-- Brother Augustine Denis Towey, C.M.