The Calling



 The Calling

I glanced to the wind blowing past me today

My Spirit swept by like a stranger, though looking

Told a story and touched the earth

Calling dead leaves and memories to the ground


Crisp and crackling, dancing across stones

Gathered and placed to mark a garden

It’s bringing me home I can hear the wind say

Whistling between rocks that hold no green


I stand and wait for the sound of my feet

The purpose once echoed in my stride

Hearing my name from the calling of a distance

Laughter welling up with my leaping to the gate


Running to the sound of my name in a whisper

Calling me further to source and away

I thought it another, I heard among the leaves

That spun and danced around my dreams


Tears welled up in my heart and eyes

Clouding my vision and honing my sight

To see I had waited for a dream not my own

But the calling was to me, by a chariot of wind


The footsteps I heard were my own, in a vision

Their echoes, my calling and departure

I held us here, which kept you away

Hearing but not listening who called


I thought it a stranger among my fears and hope

In a dormant and untended garden

Still the love real, and the tears rejoicing

Lifting to the sky, smiling goodbye and good journey


I reached to the wind blowing past me today

My Spirit stood by like a friend, long waiting

To cast a story and touch the sky

Calling my soul to mindful waking




  Image Artist  ~  Moreen Blackthorne