When God Calls (For my daughter, Maggie)
The world has a way of grabbing us by the shoulders
until it positions us for death. We look upwards at
the sky, as our bodies lay in twisted soil. Our skin as
dark as our poetry, reveals the apex of loss. We
arrive by accumulation, yet our bones are the parts
left behind with cries that cannot be voiced. I think
about the ghost inside, and I understand the white
breath of its beauty. True love is silent, unspoken,
and it hurts.
It hurts the way fluorescent light burns when it
bounces off objects. But love doesn't fall to earth.
It soars with the night air, dips and rises with the
inner coolness of the sea. It is a song in the
darkness where music plays. It is the beginning of
summer with rainy mornings. It is a baby in her mother's
womb, like a face pressed against a window, waiting
for the trip. My story is a tangled one, my sweet little
girl, as will be yours.
If we could cut memories open, we'd find the united
consciousness of the universe's core. And this, I do
not want you to forget. I want you to get over fear
and rejoice in the intermittent sounds of bells that call
you back to the creator of peace and all genetic
knowledge. I want you to ride the seams between
starlights and moonbeams with reckless abandon,
remembering to laugh all the way. I want you to join
ideas and desires, making them a reality.
Events either fall into place or out of place and one day
we'll know why. But for now we must reconcile with the
faces of those that turn away, and find the uniformity of
our souls within their eyes. We must encompass pain and
bury it deep in the ocean until we can emerge and come up
for air together. We must learn to forgive with the awareness
that in error begins truth. God has whispered my name and
I will shortly join the harmony of the Heavens. But no matter
what, it will always be you I surface to.
