You call my name

when I go to that place I don’t understand,

the one where the word for terror was unknown.

Your firm, tender voice reaches in,

helps pull me out

of history that feels like a drowning.

Reclamation becomes devotion.

New birds continue to perch on the tree,

a proof the threatening waters

did not claim me.

When you call, I return 

from somewhere losing its strength

to possess.

Difficult to say,

but I couldn’t do this alone.

I hear you call,

Thank you.