fb
Miracles

April 1, 2021

Miracles are quiet,

great as the blades of mountains

that rise and score the clouds,

rending greater gashes

and letting light inside

a world that’s gone too loud.

 

Miracles are small

as a child’s feet running home,

thundering down a path like rain

on a summer road: they never stop,

never looking back, yet they fill

rooms with laughing firelight.

 

Miracles are still

happening like round ripples,

lasting long after the last pebble

has dropped from a child’s hand

playing in the shallows, in the sunset,

unsettling dark dirt with delight.

 

Miracles are voices

around the supper table, or

on contrary sides of the street, or

bidding good evening or good morning:

never insisting, yet calmly asserting––

if only the world would stop and listen.

4 Comments

  1. Terah

    Yes to this peom. I especially love the lines:Miracles are voices

    around the supper table, or

    on contrary sides of the street, or

    bidding good evening or good morning:

    never insisting, yet calmly asserting––

    if only the world would stop and listen.

    .
    Because I experience them so much. Thank you for this poem!

    Reply
  2. Barry

    I appreciate your acknowledgement of seemingly small events that are nevertheless, miraculous.
    The Dread Pirate, Barry

    Reply
  3. Olivia Catherine

    This was a beautiful poem and I love it, even though I am not an introvert. 🙂 This was a good reminder that though they may not be as outspoken as extroverts like myself are, introverts have just as important and life-changing things to say. Many of my friends are introverts, and I’ve definitely learned to listen better over the years. Thank you for the reminder!

    Reply
  4. J. S. Clingman

    This is absolutely beautiful. Makes me smile. Thank you so much for sharing. 🙂

    Reply

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published.

Article Categories

Pin It on Pinterest