God, I said. What good is language?

part of me wondered, but I did not stop.

God I said, from deep inside of me.

Outside it was almost dawn:

the birds awake in all the trees, singing.

These were not the words I had grown up to say:

My mind quiet before the growing sounds.

The birds have opened all their throats once and then again and again:

God, each one singing, asking for nothing, inside my heart.

Nadia Colburn, Where the Light Enters

photo mike prince