The Call

“As I exclaimed ‘Jane! Jane! Jane!’ a voice- I cannot tell whence the voice came, but I know whose voice it was- replied, ‘I am coming: wait for me;’ and a moment after, went whispering on the wind the words- ‘Where are you?’ “I’ll tell you, if I can, the idea, the picture these words opened to my mind: yet it is difficult to express what I want to express. Ferndean is buried, as you see, in a heavy wood, where sound falls dull, and dies unreverberating. ‘Where are you?’ seemed spoken amongst mountains; for I heard a hill-sent echo repeat the words. Cooler and fresher at the moment the gale seemed to visit my brow: I could have deemed that in some wild, lone scene, I and Jane were meeting. In spirit, I believe we must have met. You no doubt were, at that hour, in unconscious sleep, Jane: perhaps your soul wandered from its cell to comfort mine; for those were your accents- as certain as I live- they were yours!” Reader, it was on Monday night- near midnight- that I too had received the mysterious summons: those were the very words by which I replied to it.
(Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre)”
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre    

Super Moon

The Call

Over the distance, pushed into my ear by the keening wind it came. The call.

No matter the windows latched and curtained. No matter the years between.

Undeniable and elemental, like the lightning flash. The call.

The warmth of the hearth forgotten, out into the storm. The scent of the loam. Wet on my feet.

Arms extended, the moon-shot clouds light the cedar-scented hills as I run.

Soul-shaking thunder sings to my bones. The call.

How shall I answer? The question unneeded. The breath of the earth fills my chest.

I curl contented in the arms of my love. Soon shall I answer. The call.












4 thoughts on “The Call

  1. This is so good. It reminds me of my feelings when my son about twenty years old, told me he felt a call to preach. He was my masterpiece number one. (I have two sons, so I have a masterpiece number two.) I was so delighted that he could feel the call of the Lord. He is not sixty-two. He has spend his life answering various phases of the call. Debra, I didn’t know you had this talent for poetry. It is beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

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