by G. E. Schwartz
I know of only two ways into the ego-freeing Silences. One calls for an interval in solitude. It is an unemphatic, unremarked fugitive pang Of beauty: perhaps a glimpse of low green hill Suddenly sunlit; or Caplet’s Le Miroir de Jesus Playing itself unasked within an absent-minded Moment. The other way is even, although so Unbiddable, simpler. For some occasion the Everyday acquaintances have gathered, gentle, Congenial people, none of them individually Central, just familiar. All are focused outside Ourselves. Some core validity rings out from One pronouncement, or the build of a cathedral Of words and music: it is absorbed, and, not Predictably, suddenly generates that communal Oneness, the rare-freeing silences. Other ways There may be. Hoping so is what makes living Go on, go on.
G. E. Schwartz is the author of several collections of poetry, including Only Others Are (Legible Press), World (Furniture Press), Thinking In Tongues (Hanks loose Gravel Press), Murmurations (Foothills Publishing), and The Very Light We Reach For (Legible Press), and he lives and writes from Upstate, New York, in the United States.