Poem of the Month



Painting with Words



Your voice enchanted me:

Its silky timber, its deep resonance.

I would sit there with my eyes closed

Listening to a passage you had read a hundred times before.

The way you turned a phrase,

Embellished a syllable,

Or inserted a pregnant pause

Painted a picture in my mind.


The years have passed and your voice was silenced.

Though gone from this life you left me with a gift.

You taught me your techniques, and instilled a desire

To make the written word come alive.


I breathed that life into my readings

My poems were read to others always in memory of you.

Now I have gone to the next level.

I am an emissary of the Word.

I stand at the pulpit, the readings before me.

Through my voice, the Lord will speak.


I fear that I will fall short

That I will not be able to convey

The meaning in these ancient words.

Then I feel your spirit behind me.

And you whisper in my ear:

“Your voice is the brush,

Their minds are your canvas.

The words will paint the picture

That God wishes to reveal”.                                 

                        ©2018   -  Leona M Seufert





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