Kneeling

Kneeling, un poema bellísimo de R. S. Thomas que leí hoy y me conmovió, en este Adviento, tiempo de espera.

Moments of great calm,

Kneeling before an altar

Of wood in a stone church

In summer, waiting for the God   

To speak; the air a staircase   

For silence; the sun’s light   

Ringing me, as though I acted   

A great rôle. And the audiences   

Still; all that close throng

Of spirits waiting, as I,

For the message.

                         Prompt me, God;

But not yet. When I speak,   

Though it be you who speak   

Through me, something is lost.   

The meaning is in the waiting.