You Ask Me What a Calling Feels Like by Laura Johnson It's irritating. A calling sounds like the beep-beep beep-beep you faintly hear in your sleep-drowsied dreams. At first you will be dimly aware of its alarming persistence, until slowly, slowly, maybe then with a start you'll curse the break of day. That is to say, it's unpleasant, a calling; like a fly, buzzing around in reckless circles and you can't predict when it'll laze your blasted way again. It's wild like that: a calling. Unpredictable. Supremely swat-able. It keeps you on edge- flirting by your periphery, loitering under your nose, its whispers too close for comfort. But, it will make itself comfortable. One day. Like a charming, mysterious friend. When it saunters by you'll pour it a drink, hoping to coax it into staying, at least long enough to spill where it's been what it's doing where you fit in "Why...
Women's Spiritual Poetry