Welcome to 31 Days of Poetry & Writing Prompts–Day 19.
Poetry Arrived
by Pablo Neruda
And it was at that age … Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.
I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.
And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.
///////////
I was young, when You arrived, in search of me.
Having chosen me? Me? From before I was born?
You have continually confirmed it. Yes, you. Chosen. Sought. Bought. Cherished.
I could never explain why, and I’ll be honest, it bothers me. Why me? Why not everyone? I used to often wonder, How did I become so lucky?
Knowing full well lucky was by far the wrong word to describe this gift.
I have never found the right words, to say thank You.
I have never erupted in enough prayers, or come to You with enough consistency, or given You enough of my moments. But I know that’s not even possible. You’ve given me more than I yet understand. I could never repay you, though I’ll try with my life.
I know exactly where You came from. I know how you arrived in the Spirit and how you left here in the clouds.
You left at first on that tree, carried into the cave, on a pitch black Friday afternoon. And then You weren’t there anymore, and You walked again among the people You touched.
You returned to where You came from, to make things ready for those You love. For anyone who will dare to love You back.
I was tiny when You started in my soul, when I only began to decipher Your fire.
When I spoke that first faint line, that I wanted to stand on the side of the King. When I first knew, You are King of the world.
In a way, I saw the Light, in one great big grand sudden moment.
But life’s been a winding night, and all I did was follow a rising star. Little by little, You opened my eyes to the way, and I’m still growing less blind.
You have healed me and saved me and broken my heart in ways it needed breaking. You have summoned me and touched me and made me a part of You, and I will always dare to love You back.
I know You’re still searching, for any who will dare to love You back.
All those the Father gives me will come to Me,
and whoever comes to Me I will never drive away. John 6:37
Writing Prompt:
Write about a street from which you were summoned.
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Linda Ann - Nickers and Ink Poetry and Humor says
“I was tiny when You started in my soul.”
What a wonderful testimony!
Thanks for the prompt. Here’s where I took it: Got a Grip – A Limericked Ode on Honor Bestowed