The Call

for Big Tent Poetry weekly Monday Prompt
http://bigtentpoetry.org/2010/06/monday-promptjune-21/

This is my first attempt to use a Big Tent Poetry prompt. The prompt was an exercise in writing a stream of consciousness list about something you wanted to write about, but didn’t really know how to do that. Then you were supposed to find something in the list and use it to build a metaphor, in poem form. I did that, but when it was finished, something completely different popped into my head, so I wrote it down and it made me laugh. The next morning I got a second part to that first section (didn’t know it was a Part I thingie), and the third section came the morning after that. Am fairly certain that was not the intent of the prompter, but we all work in our own peculiar ways. Mine just happened to be in layers. It is what I can only call a Mythic piece. Thank you Carolee, Deb, and Jill.

The Call

I

God handed a pen
to the prophet,
said, “Thou shalt write
until you come
to the end of words.”

The prophet, a would
be, dreamy-eyed poet,
cried, “But, what if
there is no end?”

God smiled, said,
“That would be
good.”

II

So, the prophet
who would be a poet, wrote
through long dark night
into day, and the next,
’til the pen ran out
of ink.

Brought it to God
said, “This pen
has run dry,
but the words
have found no end.”

And God said,
“Wring the darkness
from within,
let it drop into a bowl,
mix it with tears
from your very soul,
and then write, until
you come…”

“to the end of words,”
whispered
the prophet/poet

And God said,
“Amen.”

III

So, the prophet
who would be a poet,
became a hermit.
Made her way
through dank caves
of her inmost being,
found old wounds
that made her cry,
pried them loose
and used these truths
to find still more
words.

God came to visit,
asked, “Have you found
it yet?”

And the prophet
who would be a poet,
but was now a hermit
said, “No, but I have found
many other things.”

“Ahhh,” said God,
“what have you found?”

The hermit showed God
her aloneness.
The prophet showed God
her personal truths,
and the poet showed God
a feather from a small
speckled hen, and a pebble
from the beach, that had found
its way into her sandal.

God told the hermit
of spending an eternity,
alone in a dark black void,
before Creation.

God told the prophet
that truths are a light
meant to brighten the path
where feet might follow.

Then God took up
the feather, touched it
lightly to the pebble,
and the pebble cracked
in half. God gave the halves
of the pebble to the prophet
and the hermit, then touched
the feather to the poet’s lips,
before giving her that object.

God said, “These are sacred
treasures. Keep them always,
and be mindful.”

And the poet, prophet, and hermit
joyfully whispered together,
“Amen”

Elizabeth Crawford 6/25/10