Tuesday, March 12, 2013


"Come back to us; come back to us,” 
they whispered, one and all—
Come… we are important.”   
Then came a gentler call.

“Stay here, love, for here you are loved,” 
(like breezes through limbs of pines
When the nighttime world lies silent, 
and the moon, still placid, shines).

 “Nay, nay!” hissed the thousand voices. 
 “Better are we by far,
And stronger is light of street lamp 
than yonder pale-lit star.           

Again they clamored, tempting, 
Realistic is your life!
You need the pace of computers 
  and the spice of busy strife.

They knew a weak one wavered; 
they sought to use weak will—
Then again came the single clear voice,
 commanding them all: “Be still.”

“Child, did I not form you?  
 Do I not know what is good?
It was I who first thought of a garden; 
it was I who first planted a wood.

by Tony Hisgett, "Wild Arum Lily," 2005

unborn child, 24wks.
I it was who created the lily;  
I commanded the wind to blow.
I shaped each baby’s fingers, 
and I saw it good for things to grow.

Running here, the river, I set in,
 and laid the sky:
I didn’t give time wings
 because I meant him not to fly.

Greer Spring. by
I wrote you in the red earth 
that your father learned to till;
I gave you this tomorrow 
and the Joy of my own will.

Work hard, and be content, child, 
with your splendored halls of light;
I’ll be with you, small one, 
and will give your soul its flight.” 

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