How comfortable are we with the silence?
When it sticks into our conscious like the cut of a blade
Piercing our already noisy day with the shrill of quiet
Does it hurt? Does it sting? Do we wonder
What do I do?
Now what do I say?
I must pick up something quick, fast
This cannot be right.
How comfortable are we?
If the silence is where God truly dwells
I fear we are too comfortable
To let it last for long.