Poem: Called

a voice called her

to the place of decision

a precipice of the journey

of her life

she answered with her everything

stretching and fashioning her body

flat across filthy grounds

a compassionate covering for the

need of those who required a soft

foot map, bridge, guider

to their destiny

day to night

and in between

found the bend

of her back

uniquely built

for the multitude of

the many whosoever

and there she resided

with the painfully

vast stoop over of her own soul,

for so long, so many

passing times

and the lesson of it all

somehow morphed

into a gift of life

allowing for the

reach down, search into

the forever

dank gutters, icy caves

of lost hope and despair

she recognized

and yet she remained

patient and hope filled

smiling slightly as her hands

tossed up the

bruised hidden souls

that languished in the darkness

of empty, no care

she travailed and silenced their wounded ness

upon her heart,

drying everflowing tears

with an apron made of the rags

of her own life's minutes

but serenity surrounds her day graces

as her beautiful knowing touch softly strokes

the terrain of need filled faces

hunger soaked spirits, yearning minds

yes, she is the one,

agape's progeny,

servant to the invisible,

lover of the unloved lovely

the crown belongs to this

blistered beauty, she

who perservered with a

single jeweled thought:

the necessity to love

she is queen of

the forgotten no one

no ones

maid of love

*************

Copyright 2011 Regina Y. Evans, All Rights Reserved (From the poetry book: Nothing Cool About Ten, By Regina Y. Evans)