My Calling

My Calling

Love calls me to the pen,
To the blank expanse of paper,
The scratching as my hand flies,
The spill of ink like raindrops,
The florid and the fine.
Love calls me to the page,
To the words marching
Like soldiers across an endless sea of white,
To the click of rhythm in my head.
I am summoned by the need, the want
To describe and record and illustrate,
That need deep in the soul
To constantly remember.
And I am called, like Shakespeare,
Like Shelley and Plath and Carroll,
And all those who came before me,
To watch and know and learn
And to share with those who can’t see it.
So I write, and I write
For you and for all those who
Don’t understand what they see,
Those that read and lose themselves,
Who smile at words
And remember.