the torch soaked
and set fire
before I knew
what it was,
what it meant,
what it asked

I stretch open my arms—
my heart
to this tactile life
see dewdrop reflections
hear dove song
and hawk call
the patter of rain

I live the tiniest seed
the pearl’s aggravation
planted prior,
nudging life’s work
to root deep
and thrive

serving, in a way
chosen and accepted
oh yes,
I could have turned
from the call
neglected the promise—
what then?

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

I welcome comments and discussion!

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