Mister E.
How the voice of God is hidden in the open,
Emerson seems to have known too well.
A refrain of silent kindness well-spoken
Relieves each wound the world's spell
Wields on the innocent soul as it seeks
A home better suited to welcomeness.
Lost as we are in the surface, we still peek.
Depth stuns us into dumbness;
Opaques truth, not for lack of it;
Simplifies for the overwrought, its dead end.
Senseless as it seems somehow we love it.
Oh if only I could tell my friend:
Nativity, miniature or otherwise, in time of calamity,
Gave healing profound to our whole family.
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