He sits quietly,
his Chocolate Lab
on the floor next to him.
The quiet reminds him of
evenings years ago when
he would sit alone in
the silence of grief.
Silence became his friend,
grief no longer an enemy
to be feared and fled —
a companion.
His dog looks at him and
wags the tip of his tail.
He listens to the words of a
Vietnamese Buddhist monk
spoken quietly, gently, slowly
like doves of peace descending
gracefully into the silence.
He hears testimonials from
followers of mindfulness —
violence averted,
compassion practiced,
communion embraced.
He takes a deep breath
and St. Augustine comes
to mind: “In my deepest
wound I found you, Lord,
and it dazzled me.”