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Bidden

  • Mar 28
  • 2 min read

by Noel Plennert Poston



Who calls me forth,

as if I could ever be

forgotten,

as one of countless stars

and grains of endless sands?


I am the desert

man of ingrained plan,

found upon the plain,

the sea, asleep.

Awakened always

by your cries.


I feel for you,

watch you from the shore.

How you flail, fling yourself

against the night.

I bide my time

to enter yours.


I find myself alone

among my friends.

I tell you to be still

and know, to go

without and do

all things.


You, I say,

feed, reach out

to touch the wound.

I will be the bread

that breaks

upon the tongue,

the blood that rushes

to the heart of every

living and longing thing.


I will be the wind

that whistles in the dark,

draws you to the rooftop

of your house.

You will dig your way

through joist and joint,

just to lower me

into your tomb.

Kiss me before the stone

rolls into place,

as I am taken from your sight.


Again

and again you will tell

the story, hear it told.

How I came and went,

and came again.

Buried in the sands,

lost within the swirl of stars,

you will look for me.

Find me as I watch

for you, cedar

rootbound in the rock,

rising high above

your head.




Noel Plennert Poston finds endless inspiration from living among the beautiful hills and hollows of Middle Tennessee. She belongs to two incredibly creative writing groups and loves collaborating with two poet friends. She writes for the Benedictine Sisters of Cullman, Alabama’s blog, Good Zeal. Her work has appeared in the Tulip Tree Review, Poetry Superhighway, and most recently The Walnut Branch, among others.

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