I Heard My Father’s Voice.

In dreams, in free flowing streams of thought,
in my childhood and adolescence, I heard him clearly.
In my laughter among friends and strangers
while playing in street side gutters, watching paper boat sail away
I heard Him call.
My name rang past swaying branches and wings in flight
past morning suns and evenings too.
My name was called home and I would follow like a mouse would the pied
piper whistling diddles in my head to the tone of my Fathers voice.
I heard Him call through the waning and waxing of moons
I heard Him call when words were lost and I was beside myself in
thick forest among the echoes of their ancient voices.
I heard Him call when the winds died down and the trees had fallen.

And now, childhood has passed and I am no longer in my teens and yet
When I am still.
When I am in the present.
When I silence the unknown and forgotten.
I hear my Father’s voice.
In between the breaths that are my life
I hear my Father’s voice calling me
and within a portion of a second
I call back
Father......
Lord, I am here....

Richard Nedervelt