Poets United: Mid-Week Motif -Identity
The Call of the Other I Am
Do you ever catch a wisp of sound?
Not quite a whisper, but holding
the promise of one?
Or a fuzzy fragment of image? Blurred
with color and movement, and impression
that this is as important as food?
Something, someone is calling your name,
but who might it be? Trying to say “Hello”,
yet unsure if you will listen.
Does it frighten you? This sound that isn’t
a sound? Not grounded in everyday
language, or easily interpreted.
Or that blurred side glance, dancing out there
always at a slant? Does it raise goose bumps
on skin cause you know it comes
from within you?
Elizabeth Crawford 2/3/16