Call: Answer

So. These last two years have involved a lot of thought about Call and Answer. This week is a time to begin putting flesh to words. My writing reflects my inability to grasp what Call/Answer is. This is a very good thing.

Call: Answer

 Call is soft as listless snow

Its breath stings like a knife

Bright wind it tolls and carries forth

Alone by dead of night

It comes upon a winter morn

And stays till summer time

It leaves in sleep and comes again

Among the morning tide

The call is loud I sometimes hear

The sound is warm and gentle

It breaks myself into a space

Where dwells the Spirits Temple

I have a call hear it loud

It frightens me to wander

It holds my life in endless flight

My soul takes leave to wonder

It finds in me a resting place

It lays its weary head

By day, by night my prayer to call

Will raise me from the dead

Call cries to find a dwelling place

To call one self a home

My life on earth I give to call

My answer is my own