Monday, April 2, 2018

Last Night I Called

to the sun and the moon
to God and the stars
to the Goddess
and to my own mother,
long dead and buried.
Silence.
Not even the night breathed.
Worse than silence
I didn't believe
anymore.

Still, there was morning,
too busy as usual,
till finally free to commune
with my coffee outside
I startled a dove, and a feather fell

slow

as if floating
on the breath of God

slow

to rest
in my open palm

and I saw
I saw

just for a second

A true story for K's prompt Real Toads

13 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

This gave me goosebumps, MZ. I know the need to believe against impossible odds, that life is more than a random series of events.

telltaletherapy said...

love the way you slowed time down in this poem, to watch the feather fall after a leap of faith

annell said...

Yes, I loved the pace of the poem...

Sherry Marr said...

I LOVE this....from the not believing, to the hope envisioned in the soft falling of the feather into your hand.....oh my goodness, this is so wonderful! Your poems are ALWAYS wonderful. But this one is extra special.

Sherry Marr said...

Even better that this is true!

Fireblossom said...

It could have shit on your head. See? Goddess loves you.

Toni Spencer said...

This brought tears to my eyes. But watching the feather float, to land on your hand. such signs are there for us if we take the time to see.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

Oh MZ this is beyond beautiful!! 💜

Neeraj Khanka said...

Loved the way you have expressed it, especially the closing lines !

willow_switches said...

the signs come when we least expect it, the waiting or absolute need in the moment can be so bloody frustrating .... yet the beauty held in a moment, so still, slipping into an open palm -

how beautifully you've wrangled grief, disbelief, disorientation, then revelation in this piece! Wow!

Marian said...

Whoosh!

Outlawyer said...

Just lovely. Such a human experience so well expressed. K.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

What beautiful reassurance, beautifully recounted.