Birth

I whisper this soul song
in pale amber light,
strong and spiraling flakes of snow
across the heart like sweet ice rain
over gray, blue night.

I whisper like a chick can sing for seed
or a baby coo for warm milk.
There’s no autumn,
for the leaves have fallen
down the slopes to the frigid sea side.

Snow is swirling on the shore,
but bare are the waves
hitting the rocky beach, where
I stretch to touch the moonbeams
and hold tight as I climb up the light.

Hollow is the way,
yet still so thick with stars,
holding me, pulling me, coaxing me
upward so tightly, so closely, so warmly,
Come along, come along.

And so I do.
And so I do.

No struggle, no pain riding waves of pure joy,
rolled and tossed by the warm light
of angels humming, their wings unfolding,
their words like dove song,
Come along, come along.

And so I do.
And so I do.

No struggle, no pain floating in the spiral of angels’ songs,
winging toward their Beacon,
its glow so hot I cannot breathe
until I hit the shore
like a soul storm.

And so I cry out loud,
not from pain but from joy released,
my song like clamoring bells of all tones
in perfect harmony,
I am born.

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: http://hdwallpaperhighresolution.blogspot.com/2013/07/sun-and-clouds-wallpapers.html