Power in Silence

Eyes silent, room closed
Off ensuring solitude as certain
As an arctic seashore,
With my rash of shivers
From brash icy blasts
Matching the mood.

No breaks in this fast
From sound and social sin.
Only a speaker serving as a
Coffee table for a plate
That offers three slices
And a knife that can't cut them.

The wide-open window never closes,
Like Your ears that alway
Receive daylight shouts of praise
And by the night light the
Prayers of harrowed hearts,
Paranoid and penitent.

What I want to do I do not do,
Even in prayerful mood.
Holy half-hearted contemplation
Can't take thoughts I own
From the 2nd circle of hell
To highest heaven's throne.

So as my hands tear
This crumbling French bread
You must tear my heart too.
So in my search for Your will
I have only this bread to consume
And with all I am pray
To be consumed by all of You.