Augur struggles with when to be silent; when to remove himself from the noise, when to be one less voice clamoring to be heard.
He is so full.
He has so much to share.
Yet who is he to say his voice is more important than another? There are so many – singing, crying, shouting, until one by one they too enter that final silence.
He is overwhelmed by information, by the incredible cacophony of sound, the voices of the millions living and dying around him.
The First Reading
Thoughts from a Retreat of Silence
Friday
The windows shine with a warm glow.
I am the only one here.
The light welcomes me into an empty room filled with the silence.
Crossing over to the lodge l leave wet footprints on the concrete before the door.
Though they will fade by the morning, for a moment they were here, brief witness to my passing.
The storm brought me here,
sent me down on tired wings to alight within the lee of silence to rest for awhile.
Before I fall asleep, I hear, outside in the night, above the noise of the wind and rain, the cries of geese flying south for the winter.
Saturday
The rain on the roof and against the walls makes me think there are others here, patrolling like invisible sentries, guardians of a war-weary heart.
You never promised me that there would be no sleepless nights.
You simply said you would stay awake with me.
Sunday
It is a difficult thing to wean myself of the things that do not bring me abundant living.
Sitting in silence gets me nowhere.
That is its purpose.
The Second Reading
December 19, 2015
I awake groggy,
battered by too many
phantom conversations
and words left unsaid.
I wonder at tomorrow,
haunted by what shout
of pain may await on
the other side of dread.
What I say seems to
make no difference,
lost in the arc of an
impotent thread.
My insomniac wrestling
leaves me empty of
answers, like the twisted
sheets on my vacant bed.
I step into a cold,
silent day still trying
to turn down the
volume in my head.
The Third Reading
a house is quieter still in the morning after guests have left
echoes of conversations and laughter slowly fade back into the sun-flecked walls to return upon memory’s reflection
embracing the silence involves letting go of the fear that it is only the calm before the storm but failing to take advantage of the times to simply breathe leaves me breathless when the inevitable tempests come
i know not what this day holds only that it is held by a hand stronger than mine
open to clasp my own if i will accept the invitation
reaching out i . . .
The Fourth and Final Reading
April 13, 2020
today the storms will come
the rain on the windows
will be as jagged diamonds
upon the glass of your soul
the tempest shall wake you
in the darkness of early morn
from a slumber without dreams
your back clenched and stomach
roiling from aches unknown
you will turn to the page
as the night slips away
and rest is a fleeting wish
the words will arrive as
water from dripping skies
at the end of the writing
you will listen to find that
the tumult has ended
outside and within there
will fall only silence
Epilogue
The eyes of Augur rise from the page to the sky like the two white butterflies dancing above him in the air. They circle in and around each other on silent wings. Theirs is not an audible speech, but it is communication nonetheless.
He realizes that this is not simply a brief moment of stepping away, a few days spent on a silent retreat. The Voice he hears within is an invitation to a lifelong listening to the dark depths of his soul.
There is a dying here, a fear that he will become forever mute and unheard, that he will forgo his responsibility to creation and others by withdrawing, that he will no longer have a voice.
But as the bright dancers remind him, silence is neither quiet nor to be feared. If he is still, waiting with intention, he will be called out into the light of purpose in a timing not his own by the quiet voice of God.
The Book of Augur 