You, God, who live next door:
If at times, through the long night, I trouble you
with my urgent knocking -
this is why: I hear you breathe so seldom.
I know you're all alone in that room.
If you should be thirsty, there's no one
to get you a glass of water.
I wait listening, always. Just give me a sign!
I'm right here.
As it happens, the wall between us
is very thin. Why couldn't a cry
from one of us
break it down? It would crumble
it would barely make a sound.
From The Book of Hours I, 6
So, God and walls and neighbors.
This reminds me that there is That of God within each and EVERY person. That of God is within my neighbors, those that I like and those that annoy me. The noisy ones, the partiers, the ones who drive too fast down my street. The ones with well behaved children and dogs on leashes. The ones who help and the ones who turn away. There is That of God in all of them.
And the walls. . . Who builds these walls? We build them to separate, to protect, to decorate, to designate yours and mine. Yet, in the grand scheme of all that is, these walls that we build are so thin. And Rilke is right, they come crumbling down, once heavy brick, reduced to dust in the wind and blown silently across the landscape of our lives.
We build walls around our hearts. We fence them in. We guard them. And when we do, we distance ourselves from the greatest source of love.
Twelve Years Apart
3 hours ago