Deaf
B
Brooks Haxton
0
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Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy
waterspouts. Psalm 42
The waterfall in sunlight is God
talking to herself. Her voice
poured into the trees asks
nothing, to prove nothing,
and her way of asking
says by overflowing what
may not be said. The stream
unbroken at the rock’s
edge bursts with downflung
beads where daylight bursts
and drops. Though deaf, I listen
through my shoesoles, through
the stone ledge, into the water,
thrumming, into the spray and light.
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