we heard a note

we heard a note
a while
the rest of us were songs.
that single note; Your note
now fades into crescendo.
there its clarity reveals
depth within the chorus underneath


        Short not sweet,
        Sad without defeat.
        Short not sweet,
        Sung without defeat.
as you trailed off our voices raised
a rising
for brief eternity:


Sunday's Song

clamored into nothing, frantic and wild

then again
the noise grew
became an anthem
and Your music helped me trust

more voices rose than i have ever heard
a rose
and sang. wordless:

He is good
He is near and He is true and He is good

now i can't stop hearing

music always plays

and Your music hurts my heart

deep are the wounds of Your friendship