The still small voice,a whisper in the ear
Who will hear it in this noisy age?
Pandemonium food banks, fear of war?,
Buying more cheap clothes distill our rage.
Intelligence of any kind is rare
Sometimes suffering gives us time and spurs
Illness is creative for the few
Underneath the panic there is care.
Sit in in ancient churches for the view
Walk along the sea edge see the waves
Poetry music painting must engage
How my heart sings 