The Tension Holds: A Poem

stillness has its own gravity

They are the suns of many sons

Light born of lineage and fire

They hold in their place, lanterns centered like a breath before speaking

let free on a sky of waterless dreams

Oat-field clouds drift with direction

casting no shadow, giving no rain.

Grass remains untouched, reaching out of a simple faith

Trust the stillness

The birds know. They always know.

They wait with a rhythm

feeling bones in the wire

Tension. meaning.

Stretched like silk pulled taut

The stage was never empty. It was always watching.

—Art and words by Liz Gabel