NO LANGUAGE BUT A CRY: from NO LANGUAGE BUT A CRY

NO LANGUAGE BUT A CRY

By David Teems

We played a flute you did not dance

We sang a dirge you did not mourn

We called your name you did not reply

For these things there is no language but a cry

O blessed those with ears to hear

and blessed those who know and recognize

With trembling joy when He is near

For these things there is no language but a cry

Soft dies the sun when day is over

Laid in the folds of a hushed and purple sky

Whose golden light rises with the morning

For these things there is no language but a cry

O to recall with tears those things forgotten

Ghosts that remain, a hunger that survives

A nameless ache that haunts the memory

For these things there is no language but a cry...

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