For so many years
I flung my call at your absence.
I called silently into the silence
and it replied, eloquently,
without raising its voice,
without so much as a whisper.
I called, not knowing
if my call would ever be heard,
not knowing if it would be answered.
I called silently into the silence
days and nights, winters and springs,
sometimes forlorn, sometimes anguished,
as years passed, as hair fell
from my head and my body aged,
as my parents grew old.
I flung my call at your absence,
not knowing how to find you,
not knowing how to bring you forth.
I called silently into the silence
going about my days and nights,
leaning forward, arms outstretched,
carrying history on my shoulders,
croaky songs in my voice,
an unknown future in my hands.
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