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The Quiet Bridge

 

The stars splinter like broken glass, waiting,  

A word rises like smoke, like prayer, held  

Between the teeth of hope and the tongue  

Of doubt. We search for light, forgetting  

It lives under the skin, a pulse away,  

An ember caught in the ribs of our heart.  

We walk on stones that bruise the tender  

Soles of our faith, blame the earth for pain,  

Forgetting the soil is where roots take hold.  

A harsh word swells like thunder in the mind,  

Builds walls from fear, from shame, from silence.  

Yet, in the small, quiet spaces, He waits—  

Not in the grand, not in the sky-split flame,  

But in the touch of hands, the soft surrender  

Of anger. In the bending of the will, God  

Comes closer, a whisper threading through  

The noise, asking for nothing but our trust.  

A breath taken in love, a bridge unwound  

Between souls—this is where He finds us.