The Call

If you go to the sea edge

And lie down at last in the waving grasses

That grow up the sandy dunes

And listen beyond to waves sounding water

That break out past the long crescent shoreline

A voice before beginning or ending,

A singer-less song neither here nor there,

Might carry you skyward

Or out with the currents

Or plummet you luminous, into great depths

Some bursting summons is welcoming you

Not like a mother’s voice, or any other here

Yet it calls you home, which is nowhere

And everywhere you belong.