The Call

You call at the oddest of times

driving down the highway or

racing to a meeting. I want

to reach out, let you know I hear but

the road keeps moving and the

pace, too fast. Besides,

stopping is hard.

You used to call more, years ago

when I was young. I felt you

then, a visceral sense of

standing on a cliff, waiting

for the right moment to step out. 

You filled me with possibility and wonder but

the what ifs grew too big. I got scared. 
I got older.

And now, times have changed. The world has changed.

We are alone and together

with fears abundant.  While the road

no longer drives the pace

our minds still hustle 
for control              I park the car.

I place my feet on the ground. Silence

surrounds and my ears strain to hear, wanting, waiting:

Tell me what to do, who do be, where to go, how to live. 
Tell me! Tell me!

And then,

what if?

What if I don’t hear?

What if I don't understand?

What if there's nothing?

I drive on

the silence

too great

to trust.

What if?

Today under Garry Oaks, draped

in Lichen and Moss; leaves vibrant

against a bruised sky, I hear the call.

I stop. Stillness seeps into my heart.

There are no words.

There is no need.

There is no do.

I’m here.

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