Into the wooded glade you go,
Cast your circle, corners glow.
Stomach flutters, brow beads with sweat.
Into the center, intentions set.
Then without fear you call Her here.
Ears strain to listen, your wish to feel Her near.
Not even a whisper.
Arms raised, you call Her name.
In anticipation you expect to hear the same.
But silence enfolds you like a shroud,
You wish for a sign, you wish it loud.
Fleeting anger, disappointment too.
Why doesn’t She acknowledge you?
But sometimes She whispers.
In defeat you collapse, tears stain your cheeks.
Was I not heartfelt, am I too weak?
Shoulders slumped, the hot tears flow.
What did I do wrong, should I do more?
You shout Her name, cry out your woe.
Is this it? Will I never know?
Yet sometimes She whispers.
A breeze, a rustle, stillness at an end.
Candle flames flicker, sputter, bend.
And in the breeze, a sigh, a sound.
A gentle caress, your soul unbound.
You stand, composed now, tears have dried.
Is that Her I feel inside?
Was that a whisper?
In quiet you have found Her, as the wind She speaks.
Your call has been answered, it is She you seek.
“I am always here, I’ve never left your side.”
The voice that whispers comes from inside.
“You are my child and always shall be.
The answers are within, it is there you find me.”
In joy, you hear Her whisper.
It is then you realize the key,
Not only fireworks announce the mystery.
It is sometimes just the smallest spark,
That brings the light that fills the dark.
If you wish to seek Her you will find,
You’ve but to open your heart and mind,
Because sometimes, She whispers.