The Call Poem by Lonnie Hicks

I've heard that call-
inaudible sometimes-
that siren call
to go and do
what
I know I shouldn't do;
knowing that if I do

it cannot after
be undone;
this is familiar to me like a brother
close to me like a sister;
I know its outlines;

its face is clear
and yet
I receive it
on a level
below consciousness;
its cloying cleaves
and leaves me helpless
without thought.

I am there
doing again
what I'd promised
I'd never do
again-
weak in the knees;

If light smashed through my hidden door
it would find me once again inside
in the dark feeding ashamedly
at the forbidden trough

greed is there too
not just helplessness;
it is hunger for a food
which does not nourish;

for escape
to an escape-less island;
to phony Hope
and Pride

that I know
that I know
will next day
come crashing down.

Only please-
if you think of me
pray not only I can
and will resist;

pray that my ears close
and I hear
no call
at all;

bring me just once
oblivious bliss

which is the peace I crave;

the peace without struggle,
where inside
my soul will
uncover its hidden face;

and for the first time

touch toe to water
and comes for the first time
to exist.