Who is? But I am.
The words repeat in my head
Roaring like a lion,
In a chamber left for dead.
The sound reverberates off the wall
On, and on the empty thrall,
Goes out like the bells that call
The cursed to their stead.
I must go and meet this end.
I must stop this play pretend.
And so, good-bye my only friend,
Until we meet again.

If I could write forever-
And share the flavors of my mind-
If I could drop all things-
That form a divide.

Divisions have risen-
And they split my heart.
I’m cracking-
And-
I’m bleeding art.

Puddles of proses-
Fill my brain.
Inspiration blankets me-
Like a summer rain.

If I could only write forever,
And do nothing else-
Then that nourishment of my soul-
Would be my only source of wealth.

I Accept The Call

Collect call from Salt Lake County jail
If you accept,
Press 7.
Seven is a lucky number.
Not feeling lucky today
He is in jail again
For violation
Of Mental Health Court.
I accept the call.

Jail for mothers of sons
In jail, I imagine being like
Steel wombs, without the mother.

There are no pillows
No pleasant toiletries
No longer do I worry about
How long the refrigerator door
Has been open while he looks for
"Something to eat" in his bag of commissary.

There is no mama's kitchen.
No sofa to pine on.
Your laments only echoing
off cement.
What is your excuse this time
For violating the rules
At your new mothers home
You must know by now
There are no soft goodnight words
Just the stained metal
Slamming closed

May you keep your sanity
While doing your time
And remember the words
Radical acceptance
Practice balancing your
Emotional, rational
and wise mind
Maintain focus and resolve
To never, never, never give up.
I'll take that call now
I accept.

Can you hear me calling for you at night?

Calling your name through the tears.

Can you hear me asking why?

How could you promise me the world, to just wake up and dump me?

Can you hear me?

In the silence I have my answer.

Brothers and sisters of ink and blood.
Storytellers, poets, connoisseurs of love.
The downhearted, broken. Betrothed and betrayed.
Lend me your ear, your heart, and your page.

My quill has run dry, but yours still runs free.
My imagination is dim, though you still believe.
I said hello, poetry. Goodbye tainted thoughts.
But it takes more than words to break such locks.

So, write me a sonnet, haiku, or a ballad.
A lymeric, lyric, even elegies are valid.
Deliver your song of keyboard clicks,
Tell of your lover, your pain, politics.

Grant me this wish,
Fulfill this desire.
I am freezing cold,
and your words are on fire.

When, on days like this
It takes everything in me to stay
To remain,
With my feet planted on this decaying ground,
That's collapsing under me
I lift my heavy head toward a cloudy sky
and cry out silently: Why?

And on days like these
I know I will find a way in no way
To get out of here
Out of this stagnation and this fear
One day, I know
I will be out in a field
Where the air is so crisp,
And I will feel it against my singing lips,
Singing sweet songs of praise
For once again my sorry soul God will have raised.

On days like this the bleakness feels inescapable,
I wonder if I am in any degree capable
To rid myself of my hindrances
and set forward on the path that God has set before me
I can't lie to you
and tell you I am naturally brave,
for I am shaking at my knees,
So scared I am indeed
But I can't keep my feet planted in this deteriorating ground much longer,
For the dirt of this town breaks through my shoes and eats at my calloused soles
I need to find a way to stop the bleeding.  

Jesus showed me how to give up everything
for the will of our Father
It's so daunting to be called to this,
but something deep within me
tells me I must follow.

So what will I give up,
What will I sacrifice
to follow the call God has on my life?
My answer: everything.

Your Calling

I was talking with my husband about
What a blessing and how pivotal
It is to hit upon or feel the urge
Toward some profession,
Way of life or some vocation;
Trade or craft that calls you:
Which is why they call it calling.

Some pull which you can’t resist,
Insisting, splurging all it has,
That spurs you on,
A something giving you a kiss,
Summoning and intervening
(But which doesn’t always happen,
There not being any app
To lead the way).

Some just ‘have it’,
Never entering their heads to
Chase or fall into another path.
Lucky they who craft or hath
The gift or talent and good luck
To never buck the system,
Or its converse, follow hollowly
Right into mediocrity,
Stuck on levels never-growing,
Always burrowing and furrowing
The earth, the brow
Never to get somewhere no how.

Say a prayer if you’re not there yet.
Find your groove and move to bare it.
Sleepily or creepingly, but ardently in heart and mind
Till you find the calling key;
Use it in tranquility and fervor -
They go hand in hand, auguring well -
Passion can be quiet too.
You deserve a calling.
Serve the calling coming to you.

Your Calling 2.27.2018 I Is Always You Is We; Revelations Big & Small; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Corwin