Whispers Poem by Lois Read

Grace
a silken scarf
on the bared shoulders
of my soul
allows me to stay serene
in a world where
madness reigns
or seems to reign

weather patterns gone berserk
chemical weapons in Syria
earthquakes in China
children shot
in Sandy Hook

to be safe
to smile
though to do so
afloat in a sea of destruction
seems sacrilegious somehow
yet
on my patio
sweet in the morning light

the silken scarf flutters
lifts
and there is Dame Julian of Norwich
holding a hazel nut
whispering
through the stone
of her medieval cell
'all manner of thing shall be well'