Scarlet Robe Creations

Where is there ever quiet? If God’s voice was silent, still, I would hear the praise of the saints before the throne. I pause to pray, without words, but with an open heart and a mind that seeks nothing but to listen.   A single bird in a distant tree offers a song for my soul. The wind rustles through the hay in the field, bringing wildflowers to dance. There are no voices to dispel the grace. There’s simply my emptiness waiting to be filled with silence.   Where is there ever quiet? The wind will never completely cease, moving from one place to another, praise will never languish and a song of one note, sung from the branch of an evergreen will never be made silent. copyright 2024 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

I take a single step onto the path, grass and weed underfoot, stones marking the way. I came expecting the complex and received simplicity. For what shall I pray and what canonized words should I use? ‘Our Father in heaven,’ but this discourse points toward my needs. My prayers have already been heard. I surrender to the world around me, untouched by the progress of today and yesterday. I surrender to the silence where the Spirit’s voice is amplified and I am left without petition. My final step, reached after meditation well spent, listening to the voice of my creator, He who has counted the hairs on my head, He who has said come and in the quiet has given me rest. copyright 2019 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author

The poem below reflects on a recent afternoon visit to Weston Priory in Weston Vt  http://www.westonpriory.org/ Silence. Only the brief interruption of a bird's song or sandals walking prayerfully over stone. Silence. Walk around a reflective pond and through a garden cared for meticulously. Rest in contemplation and listen to the quiet. This is a place of silence. On a summit in Weston Vermont resides the ultimate peace. Silence. Until the monastery bells call us to prayer. A handful of men, monks, enter the chapel and begin to sing. copyright 2016 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author