Silent Night


The nightingale’s last cry;
a still born child at twilight.
A bundle of feather scattered,
tattered on parched ground.
Silent is the bleakest night,
till in prayer I cry out…

“Hear my prayer, O Lord,
and give ear to my cry;
do not be silent at my tears;
for I am a stranger with You,
a sojourner, as all my fathers were.”

Psalm 39:12

Not the feathers of a nightingale, I know, yet the music of one I no longer hear.


  1. thefeatheredsleep says:

    I love this too


  2. Sumana Roy says:

    untimely death does make everything dreary and miserable…a human birth is so fortunate that one can pray to Him and make the bleak silent night a holy one…beautiful thoughts….


  3. X says:

    In the bleakest of night, what more can we do but pray?
    A still born child – is rather heart breaking.
    I caw a baby bird last week
    that fell from the nest, far too young.


  4. Nature can be cruel, not even nightingales are spared…


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