I am the voice who fades away at birth
To whispers on the wind
To the joy of children
To the grace of elephants
To the whooshing rustles
Of tiny leaves spinning on a breeze.
You are deaf to me now,
But I wait and watch the hours
To turn your head
To twist your back
To stroke your neck
To grab your flailing arms
And right their clumsy reach.
You are numb to my touch,
But I gesture, and gesture
In front of you I dance
Like a madwoman in fits,
Naked-breasted, arched --
Dripping, to make a track
For you to find me.
You are blind to my light,
But I shine it on you,
When your eyes are open,
When sleep settles,
When twilight falls,
When your dreams at last
Bring you fumbling to me.
Even I do not understand
Why you do not recall
The contract that we made,
The one you buried like treasure --
Or why you don’t remember
That I am here, waiting.
I am the one you meet at death,
But you must know me now:
Your flesh will live.
Your life will move.
Your heart will fill.
Your throat will sing the world.
I am the voice who whispers in your dreams.
You sense it in the fog
And split the wavering lines.
One night, you are sure you hear it.
(At last!)
”Come to me, come to me, come to me, come to me---“
Vicki Lambert
