God is absorbed in work, and hears
the spacious hum of bees, not the din,
and hears far-off
our screams. Perhaps
God listens for prayers in that wild solitude.
And hurries on with weaving:
till it's done, the garment woven,
our voices, clear under the familiar
blocked-out clamor of the task,
can't stop their
terrible beseeching. God
imagines it sifting through, at last, to music
in the astounded quietness, the loom idle,
the weaver at rest.
The stirrings in the tomb of our darkness are the WHISPERS OF OUR SOUL, urging us to move toward a place where we have not been before. We may be pushed to make changes in our lives that we would never considered otherwise. We may be forced to look at hidden wounds and inner issues that we had always been able to shove aside. We may be led to appreciate life and our gifts at a much deeper level. Most always, the womb of darkness is a catalyst for creativity and for a deeper relationship with God. Always it is a time for trust in the transformative process and for faith that something worthwhile is to be gained by our waiting in the dark.