Hearing whispers that make worlds

It’s often not the things that are shouted from the rooftops that change us.

They simply make a noise.

Instead, it’s the whispers. The soft words that penetrate our outer skin and settle in our souls.

And that changes everything – once we’ve given in…


Even the magnificence of the storm roar
Failed to awaken him.
Entangled by a shroud of misery,
Exhausted, angry and so desperately alone
He was unimpressed 
By the raging wind and driving rain.

Predictable, he thought.
The violence of the earthquake
Momentarily distracted him;
But too lost in his own despair
He remained unmoved and bound.

The flames, as spectacular as they were,
Failed to stir him.
He was no longer a prophet who dealt in fire.
The knots seemed to tighten.

He barely heard the whisper.

The voice named him

And he was undone.

+ Chris Matthews, in Quiet Voice, from the Presence Project

In the Be More Poet podcast today, I’m exploring a different way of seeing (and hearing) with Chris Matthews. This is the first of his poems.

Friends are people who can speak in whispers, who remake our world. And Chris has certainly done that for me in recent years.

I hope you enjoy his poem and our conversation.

Pause. See differently. Re-story 🌿