Vespers at the Abbey

"A word with power is a word that comes out of silence."

-Henri Nouwen, The Way of the Heart

I.

Chevroned hills and spruce sweet as frankincense. Bald eagles fishing for supper. Laughter and golden spirits by the Pacific. Other times, clashing gongs, a fortress of sound.

Shimmering symphony of sea and melody of shore birds. One who comes to solo grows silent, sensing presence.

My friend in Louisiana, my friend without voice, might sing so the angels hear but suffers radium treatments, risks a mute future.

II.

Bells summon us for Vespers. Oaken beams burnished lavender and gold form an oasis where chanters bow and sunset vests the sanctuary in rose.

Wings of voices at Mount Angel evoke memory of November commitment, a silver ring, song, and promised homage to the Word of God. Nine harried months past, solace in chant as ancient as the Church. psalms rounding morning and evening, month and season. Each hour a note rooted in nature, and divine. Altered forever, the way Christ has altered time.

STELLA NESANOVICH*

* Stella Nesanovich has published verse in First Things and is the author of A Brightness That Made My Soul Tremble: Poems on the Life of Hildegard of Bingen (Blue Heron Press, 1996).

Copyright Anglican Theological Review, Inc. Winter 1999
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