I have heard you calling on the spring winds, Come to me, come gently to me. I hear you talking in the timber, woodland of oak and ash and greenwood groves. They chose a grove tree to make your cross, and the cut wood wept when it felt your scourged flesh. I hear you in the highest branches, the limber ones that stretch and sway, the pliant ones that murmur when they move, the ones that reach for stars. I have heard you calling on the summer winds, Come to me, come softly to me. I hear you in the rafters when the house shifts, and leans against the night wind like a lover, Voice of remembrance, voice of rest, voice that lulls, implores, entices, voice that enchants, attracts, entrances, voice that signals, sighs, entreats, voice from the time before I was, voice from the time before the before, voice of the now, voice of the time to come, voice of solace, voice that soothes and forgives. Come to me, come quietly to me. Voice of supplication, voice of restoration, I have heard you in despair, heard you in joy, heard you when I shut my ears and hid, heard you when I laughed and shouted, heard you when I covered my face and wept, heard you when I lay down, heard you even when I slept. I have heard you calling on the winter winds, you who loved me before I had voice to answer, you who carried the cross for me. Crucified Redeemer, have you called me always? Risen Savior, have you sought me always? Come to me, come quickly to me. I hear; I come. I have always been yours.
Copyright © by Peggy Eastman, 2021