Saturday, August 29, 2009
The Beckoning (poem)
The Beckoning
You called me
and I came down,
small soul wrapped
in the folds of the dark flower.
I arrived not knowing
where I had been,
whose voice had summoned,
why I had come.
How could I know
that this unfolding
would arrive
in such bliss,
body awakening again
to its own beginnings?
How could I guess
it would carry such pain,
always the throb of grief
pulsing through
the vein of joy?
Dorothy Walters
August 29, 2009
