The Still Small Voice

A Still Small Voice
When I hear your voice in my dream
with clear words, I wake up to darkness
and forget what you told me, seconds before.

I don’t see you in the black bedroom,
but I wait, hoping to discern the shadows.
Nothing moves, even beyond my small window.

I remember you calling out to me,
so I slide open the glass pane and listen:
a faint breeze, a passing car, and tired footsteps.

Another night, broken and restless,
my eyes are heavy and the moment’s lost.
Yet I whisper, “Wake me again; until I understand.”

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Well, it's been a while since I've posted a poem and I felt like posting one. I wrote this several weeks ago, I think. I like the fact that it takes a common situation and sort of relates it to the gospel. I think even people who don't understand the reference in the title can enjoy the poem.

On another note, I don't post all the poems I write, just the ones that I feel are worth it, and that I feel aren't embarrassing in any way. Silly, aren't I in that way? Oh well, I'll probably post them later in one fell swoop, one major post or something. But for now, enjoy.