This day are opened, our mouths to give thanks. They who opened the breaches, have opened my sons’ mouths.
(St Ephraim the Syrian, The Nisibene Hymns)
The night begins our day; we raise
our open mouths to praise.
The sky
falls in orange sleep, but wait
expectant of the dawn.
The gates are breached; the night is deep.
The wall is broken so we reach.
You took our king to make us kneel
and rent the sky to make us gape.
The night begins the day; we raise
our gaping mouths to pray.
The Consolations of Writing 