The Call

The Call

Now you must go out into your heart
as onto a vast plain. Now
the immense loneliness begins.

Rilke

Suppose the silence you pass through

were incomprehensible to more than you,

and suppose you knew

who wrapped at your window

were hungry and you flew instead

to your inner rooms to shut out

the noise to close over the hand held out

as though it were a wound and in the place

of alms you have the spike

of your rage...suppose the woman asking is

me and my dream is just

to sit near to you and be

wanted.  Suppose that your pocket

change, what remains of what you’ve spent

stays there still, jingling away

like wind against the now loose glass.  The rattle...

it haunts, and no matter how far go you

into the murk of your spirit’s house you’ll hear

it you’ll hear someone with their knuckle

beside the one top to bottom crack,

holding out, penitent... but not knowing why.