White Language (Poetry)

It speaks to me of purity and love —
the spirit’s language tells me I am free
to wander in those realms where peace confers
an understanding deep inside of me.

That voice is always close despite the storm
raging loud in fear’s unhappy state —
it whispers even though the door is closed
the light’s grown dim and time is getting late.

I make a space to listen — and it’s there —
that little voice that soothes away the pain
it curls around the wound — it sighs and sings
of things to come — the hopeful heart’s refrain.

I trust those words of comfort ringing true —
unchanging in a world awash with lies
such guidance comes in silence seeping through
sheer walls of noise where chaos moans and cries.

I hear it in the gap between each breath
calling soft in tones so clear and light
take courage from its message and believe
the old translation stands — the truth is white.