I Hear a Voice

When fear creeps in, clinging,
I hear a voice say, “Open.”

When I leave, by well-worn mental paths,
the time, the place, the space I'm in,
I hear a voice say, “Return.”

When I watch the boys on bikes
chasing round and round the van
in the driveway, when I see my daughter
smile secretly at the dog in the yard,
I hear a voice say, “This is good.”

When tears rise at the mere thought
of an act, when my heart somersaults
in my chest and the muscles of my legs
clench tight, I hear a voice say, “Pay attention.”

This is the voice of knowing,
the voice that leans whispering
Truth.  “This is light.  This is darkness,”
the voice says, “It matters not where
you are, for I am with you, always.


  1. Oh, the tears of "pay attention. I love that. And this whole poem. Thank you.

  2. "I am with you always." Oh, Jesus, help me live there, right in the middle of the wonder.

  3. This is beautiful, Kelly, for it reminds me that "the voice of knowing" is often the one that shows up amidst the least assuming parts of our days, or the too-easily dismissed parts of ourselves, and learning to pay attention seems one of the richest practices of our daily and inner lives.