Monday, June 19, 2017
The Prophet
The Prophet
Something wants
to speak through me.
It has no name
or form,
no identifying
marks.
It is merely a presence,
whether a saint
or a shadow,
I do not know.
It comes
and I answer.
It is silent,
and I wonder why.
Together we weave
a truth that is waiting
to be found,
a hidden jewel
glinting in the shrubbery,
a distant light
in the landscape,
signaling,
beckoning on.
Dorothy Walters
June 7, 2017
