A Longing Poem

I cannot find the place
where Aliveness is.
Where God moves.
It is as though Divinity
is just on the other side
of the wall,
Whispering.

I sit entranced
ear pressed against
cool plaster.
I listen with
every nerve,
Every cell open,
Hoping to hear
God's voice.

I can make out
muffled syllables
and muted sounds-
Enough to know
Someone is there,
Someone is speaking.

I feel caught here:
my ear glued to the wall
my being tense
with waiting.

Because I fear losing
the Sound altogether
I do not get up,
I cannot get up
to look for the door
to the other side.