Love Letter #45: The Calling

I could feel a hush in the crowd;
a murmur of discontent
as words left my lips and fell like conviction
upon empty, but, unwilling vessels.
If only words could penetrate hearts,
like birdsong through sheer curtains
on sleepy-eyed Sundays.

I can hear his harp hum
like the psalms he left;
words that pull me up and break me
at 3am

leaving me here with this pen, weeping
like a poet who writes to herself
hoping a reflection of this deep, deep love
will seep through the pages
and touch a soul,

and touch a soul.

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2 thoughts on “Love Letter #45: The Calling

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