We know that silence is for the soul,
replenishing what’s extracted
in the grind of daily living
that meditation calms the body
as well as the mind
but
do we realize silence
is a form of listening
a sacred gift, an offering
of ourselves to others, yes,
and also to ourselves
For I find myself
slipping into hidden cracks
of my existence
over and over
just to listen
Rooster crowing while it is yet dark
and all the day long
tinged with urgent longing
not altogether of this earth
Wind in the chimes, unseen fingers at play,
the invisible howling creature under the eaves
out of pain now, and at rest
Listen
birds
Children reading, hesitant, halting
a pump handle scraping until
—there now, there now, there’s the flow
The muted beat of drums, upstairs
my boy recording a song
both melody and harmony,
the rhythms of his heart
translated to keys and strings
same as I translate rhythms
of words to page
Listen
The timbre of voices long-loved
each like a blanket
for wrapping around
and resting within
Listen
Deep in angry torrents
born from undercurrents
surging over
razor-edged
ice-hot stones
of fear and pain
—there, the slashed heart cries
unassuaged
unabated
just love me
while in the sky
geese
House popping and cracking
yawning, stretching
settling back to sap-drenched dreams
of branches and green
much like me, holding a shell to my ear,
seeking the ocean
not necessarily one of this earth
but the sea-response
of my own brain,
echoing
resounding
reverberating
against my soul
Listen
may well be
the holiest of words.
*******
Photo: Listen. Rick and Brenda Beerhorst. CC BY
I enjoy that “Blessed are those who actually listen” photo. I also used it last November to accompany a pantoum poem: The sound of gratitude.
The annual Slice of Life Story Challenge with Two Writing Teachers is underway, meaning that I am posting every day in the month of March. This marks my fifth consecutive year and I’m experimenting with an abecedarian approach: On Day 12, I am writing around a word beginning with letter l.
Also shared with the Poetry Friday gathering – many thanks to Heidi for hosting the Roundup.
lit bits and pieces 
Fran, I’m feeling your heart and soul! This part resonates deeply:
For I find myself
slipping into hidden cracks
of my existence
over and over
I am hosting a day of writing in a similar writing community (for verse) in April and would love to use your poem as a mentor text and feature you as a poet if you are interested. An inspired poem on listening is perfect in these days. The repeating of listen….listen….is so compelling.
LikeLike
Thank you so much for these words, Kim! I am delighted to know the poem and those lines in particular resonate with you, and that you would like to share it with the poetry-writing community. That would be an absolute joy to me – yes!
LikeLike
I needed some inspiration for my morning poem and here you are, with such beautiful lines. I hope you don’t mind:
”.. as I translate rhythms
of words to page ..”
— inspired by “Listen” by Fran Haley
Toes tapping to beat
of every syllable,
every street
corner where they serenade us,
passers-bye, walking by,
by porch
light, the torch light
of words shimmering
into music light, a hymn
into this unknown night
LikeLiked by 2 people
Oh, Kevin – how could I mind the musiclight of these words and lines? I am awed. Thank you.
LikeLike
Beautiful! I love the mood of your poem and how it changed throughout like real life.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for listening with me!
LikeLike
I loved meandering through this poem…this line, “silence
is a form of listening” wow. Very thoughtful, very spiritual in the tenderness expressed for listening and the sounds listened to.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Many thanks, Linda; all those sounds carry different meanings for me, beyond just “hearing.” Even the silence.
LikeLike
It may be this exhausted brain, but halfway through reading your poem I pictured it lying on its side, looking like sound waves moving across a display–my eyes were listening. Is it a nudge of the Universe that I was reading Glennon Melton’s “Untamed” last night, her chapter on “selah” in particular, that Hebrew directive to pause, listen, let Scripture sink in, much like the full spaces in your poem? To feel fully in the spaces, listening. That’s what you made me do this morning, a meditative respite before my busy day. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I am fascinated by your eyes suddenly seeing sound waves – I wouldn’t have thought of this and I love it. I also love the connection to “selah”/”meditate on this” and “to feel fully in the spaces” – for that’s what I was doing, absorbing all those sounds, their meanings, their essences, their interconnectedness. Such a profound response, Chris – thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
A sacred gift, an offering
What a beautiful poem and reminder of this choice that is a gift to ourselves and others. Encouraging for the day ahead.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I so appreciate your words. Many thanks.
LikeLike
Yes, listening, you have captured the essence and the power of listening and what a precious part of our daily lives it should be. Loved the lyrical descriptiveness of the lines of your poem, especially ‘echoing, resounding, reverberating against my soul…’
LikeLiked by 1 person
Many thanks – thank you also for that other beautiful l-word, “lyrical.”
LikeLike
Ah, yes. Listen is the holiest of words! Love so many images in this poem. This one has my heart: “Wind in the chimes, unseen fingers at play,” We have a wind chime out on the back deck and the sound is magical. This month with all the wind, it lulls me to sleep.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That sound IS magical, Margaret – never fails to quiet my spirit.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sounds surround us but we don’t listen. You listened so that we could all hear too. Another magical weaving of words.
Here’s a funny story with the word listen. An incredible first grade teacher taught her students to respond to a call back. She would say L-I-S, students said T-E-N. They were then supposed to stop and listen. One day I asked a student if they knew what they were spelling. The student shrugged and had no clue that the word was listen. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for the “magical” comment and that story -!! How often do we focus on details and miss the whole point, alas!
LikeLike
Aww…so glad you are slicing. Your writing sings and your writing voice always shows how well you listen. I’m really working on that. XO
LikeLiked by 1 person
You and your words are always a gift, Nanc. Thank you ❤
LikeLike
Listening is a life theme of mine. I really enjoyed the expansiveness of your poem that took us to so many corners of your life to listen closely. These lines:
“House popping and cracking
yawning, stretching
settling back to sap-drenched dreams
of branches and green”
are wonderfully lyrical and rich with description. Thank you for taking us on a listening tour!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I so appreciate your words, Sherri – I was listening to my house popping and settling as I wrote, and was feeling so grateful for my home.
LikeLike
Hi Fran! Thanks for sharing this “call-to-listen” with us. Your poem, especially the ending, reminded me of “The Word That Is a Prayer” by Ellery Akers (only in his poem, the sacred word is “please” instead of “listen”).
“Please: a word so short
it could get lost in the air
as it floats up to God like the feather it is, “
LikeLiked by 1 person
Tabatha, thank you for these words – I am awed to be reminiscent of Akers and those lines.
LikeLike
I believe that to “listen” is the best thing I did as a teacher, Fran. This is so poignant, so important for people to read, to “hear”! I love it all, but especially “the rhythms of his heart
translated to keys and strings” – that touching part about your son. Have a lovely weekend!
LikeLiked by 1 person
So true, Linda, that the best thing we can do as teachers is listen. The kids so need to be heard. Many thanks for your words!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes! Listening is a holy thing! Thank you for this, Fran.
Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
LikeLiked by 1 person
Indeed, listen may well be the holiest word. What a beautiful poem, Fran. Thank you for sharing such lovely words today.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much, Trina.
LikeLike
So many lovely translations of sound into words, but this was my favorite, I think:
House popping and cracking
yawning, stretching
settling back to sap-drenched dreams
of branches and green.
Thanks for sharing your SOL with PF today!
LikeLiked by 1 person
My house was making these sounds as I wrote, and I thought about it dreaming of being trees… many thanks, Heidi.
LikeLike
The LAYERS here. This poem asks to be read. And reread. And then read aloud. And then silently. There are so many images that you bring, like the wood of the house dreaming of its former self, sap-drenched and green. But what I’m going to really carry forward is the new idea you’ve planted for me. YES, listening is a gift. Yes, silence is a form of listening and observing – OTHERS. I had never stopped to think that we could create silence, and listen in to OURSELVES. We can slip into the different thoughts and memories we have. We can watch, and we can observe, and we can listen. What a gift that truly would be to ourselves. Fran, this is a LOT to think about here. I’m going to have to tend this seed for a little while – it seems like a big and meaningful one. Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Layers… listening is like that. I don’t always do it well. Tiredness and too many thoughts interfere. But I’ve come to think that, in the end, those moments that I sit and truly listen are a gift, a celebration of being alive. Even in the blessed silence. Deepest thanks for your words, Lainie.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh my, Fran, this is beautiful and heartfelt. I resonate with so many of your words. I agree “blessed are those who actually listen.” I love how you began with the photo and quotation and how your circled back to it. The photo reminded me of all the shells I’ve listened to and how I taught my daughters to listen to shells.
I have always thought how much better our world would be if more people truly listened. Right now as I write I am listening to my cat purring sitting near my monitor and the wind whooshing and wailing outside. Both sounds calm and make me happy. I also appreciate the comfort of sounds and silence; I seek sounds. I miss the sound of “children reading” and the sounds of my daughters’ “timbre of voices long-loved/each like a blanket/for wrapping around/and resting within.” These lines “both melody and harmony, the rhythms of his heart/translated to keys and strings” remind me of the eleven years I’ve spent listening to my youngest daughter play her viola and how much I’ve missed hearing her and her college orchestra perform during the last year because of the pandemic.
Thank you for sharing this gift. Your poem has made me pause and think how important listening to sounds and how important silence is to me. Tomorrow when I hear birds singing I will think of you. Mr. Cardinal has been singing loudly.
LikeLike
Fran, this is beautiful–that stanza starting with “For I find myself…” is exquisite.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Laura – means much that you think so.
LikeLike
Fran, this poem is so beautiful, a reminder that listen may be “the holiest of words.” It made me think about my family and place where I grew up, returning in the quiet and listening to the past to see what I can discover. There is so much to listen to, isn’t there?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I so appreciate your words, Janice. This idea of returning in the quiet places to listen to the past – I love that, for there’s spirit in place. Even when I am returning there only in my mind. Yes, so much to listen to.
LikeLike
I love this–all the sounds and the love flowing underneath
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Kay – much love WAS flowing underneath.
LikeLike
Thank you so much for sharing this with me! It is beautiful. There are so many lines I love. One section that stood out to me was where you describe your son playing music, and the connection you share with him: “the rhythms of his heart/translated to keys and strings/same as I translate rhythms/of words to page” The repetition of “listen”, the images, the pacing of the poem, all give me the feeling of slowing down and setting into silence as I read. By the time I reach the end of the poem, I’m in the right place to listen. What a gift!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are most gracious, both in the invitation to share links to favorite posts (I have never even thought of this) and in your reading and feedback. Many thanks for this gift, the sharing of your words and heart!
LikeLike