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The Call
I've heard that call-
inaudible sometimes-
that siren call
to go and do
what
I know I shouldn't do;
knowing that if I do
it cannot after
be undone;
this is familiar to me like a brother
close to me like a sister;
I know its outlines;
its face is clear
and yet
I receive it
on a level
below consciousness;
its cloying cleaves
and leaves me helpless
without thought.
I am there
doing again
what I'd promised
I'd never do
again-
weak in the knees;
If light smashed through my hidden door
it would find me once again inside
in the dark feeding ashamedly
at the forbidden trough
greed is there too
not just helplessness;
it is hunger for a food
which does not nourish;
for escape
to an escape-less island;
to phony Hope
and Pride
that I know
that I know
will next day
come crashing down.
Only please-
if you think of me
pray not only I can
and will resist;
pray that my ears close
and I hear
no call
at all;
bring me just once
oblivious bliss
which is the peace I crave;
the peace without struggle,
where inside
my soul will
uncover its hidden face;
and for the first time
touch toe to water
and comes for the first time
to exist.
poem
by
Lonnie Hicks
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