Hello friends–

I’m in Boston this week for the Unitarian Universalist Musicians’ Network Annual Conference.  These sorts of conferences are always exhausting—very long, very full, very meaningful days.  I’ll be returning home on Sunday, and hope soon thereafter to have processed some of my experiences enough to blog about them, but I did want to share with you a poem that was read as part of our very first gathering this week.

It’s from Mark Belletini’s new book, Sonata for Voice and Silence; Mark was the presenter for our Professional Development program on Monday and shared the poem as preparation for the day.  It left me in tears—which, perhaps oddly, felt like a great way to start the week.

An Irony for Public Worship

Funny how the sun never asks
about what I did or didn’t do today before it sets.
Funny how the rain refuses to question my motives
before it soaks me through.
Strange how the peach is sweet in my mouth
whether or not I am feeling sweet that day.
Odd how the sky maintains its altitude
even when I am asleep, and not noticing.
Or how a toothache hurts even though
I passed all my tests and established a career.
Hard to express how the children in Sudan
mean the same thing when they say “I am” that I do,
even though we speak different languages,
and they will live a much shorter life than I will.
Difficult to comprehend how both music and silence
can seal the deal,
especially since no one spent even a single minute
composing the silence.

If you like the poem, please consider supporting Mark by purchasing the book. (You can do so here for $8.)

May the rest of your week be full of music and silence.  I’m looking forward to returning home, a little bit different than when I left.