Call to Write
I held in my arms a precious jumble of moments,
light as feathers,
warm as sunset on eyelids,
shapes of longing, love and grief
each a memory of emptiness filled with subtle shadings of warmth,
and then, carrying it all, a fire called me to dance,
So I danced and dreamed,
a passenger in this body
and, watching from the whispering surf
I push each word gently towards shore
