The Call Poem by Lidia Chiarelli

To Virginia Woolf
on her birthday

Everything has gone from me
Virginia Woolf


Black ravens
scratched the sky
in a frenzy
in front of your house
when in the morning mist
you felt
infinitely free
for the first time in a long time.

The door closed behind you
when you left
your untamable fears,
your spirit bent by the wind.


Then came the call
of the fast current
inviting you
as youlingered on the bank

docile you walked
soon surrendering
to that irresistible voice
and your coat
heavier and heavier
wrapped you gently
in an icy embrace.

January 25

Lidia Chiarelli, Italy