A Song

I was listening
To the words
Strung along a melody,
Painted upon a canvas of silence,
Where an intricate pattern was woven and
Wrapped about my mind

I was listening
To the words
Which were honest words, raw words,
Words that penetrated deep inside
To place where I could hear them;
Flawed, in a sense, yet flawless

I was listening
To the words
That told of stories—
Trials and tribulation,
A journey well over a thousand steps—
Frozen in each simple sound

I was listening
To the words
That tell of us,
That tell of our lives
And of our God

I was listening
To the words
That reminded me of hope,
That reminded me of the journey,
That diverted my eyes from the distractions,
That reminded me of who I am
And who my God is
And why I am here

I was listening
To the words,
Words that
(Though written by a different hand)
Told parts of my story,
Extracted memories once locked away,
Sang a tune of which I had forgotten the lyrics

Because, as I walked,
I was listening
To the words
Of a song