The Call – a poem by Ash Dean

The Call

Geese take wing in choral cacophony.
.Each extending itsneck beyond the thump

of its breast...As a quiet wake

of backlit haze envelops the lake..With

the first calls of morning they say—On
….they say—the way is long

they say—and so—
……they say —
……………………………go—

To be human is to witness. Each day
you take your place. Be still. Be vigilant. Alert

to possibility. Aware of grace and pain.
How difficult not to know

what will happen next...The oblivion
stars unlearn the future all the time...Ages on

they turn to dust……&this dust
becomes you. Even at this distance you burn,

though slowly. Because ears are always open
we hear the call. This dust that is me

and the dust that is you awakens
to a kinship. Put aside

your memory of wreckage. Even what
is deep in your animal mind:

you must put it aside...With the gravity
of the first tumultuous

thoughts of morning you must
..walk—-no matter how slow—

but walk—
out into the sounding pool

of the arriving day.
If I knew another way—

………………I would name it.
Here is my only guarantee—

That I will

………………go too
for so long as I can

……………..— I will go—

 

 

Ash Dean grew up in Ferguson Missouri. He is a graduate of The International Writing Program at City University of Hong Kong. His work has appeared in Cha, Drunken Boat, Gravel, Ma La, Mason’s Road, Soul-Litand Afterness: Literature from the New Transnational Asia. He is the author of Cardiography from Finishing Line Press.  He lived in Suzhou, China for 6 years. He currently lives in Songdo, South Korea.

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