By Alisa Muñiz Blanchard, copyright 2013

Who is she,
that bangs on your door
Insistence of rapping
The call echoing in the rafters
You know
And the running away from her
Only brings you closer
To the deafening cackle
Of her raging heart
Eye to eye one must surrender
Amidst the mystery to the
Hazy mystery of where she leads you
Her stare is cold like spring rivers
Her breath foggy like summer nights
Her voice decays like autumn leaves
Her skin is rough like the winter snow
And still you must follow her
Deep into the borrows
Beyond the crust of the earth
To the quickening of life
In the molten core
For there is no denying the call
Once it has come
And once you arrive
You will be asked to turn around
To walk back
To find your way
Until you realize there is no path
To where you started
Then you will bushwhack a new way
Discovering with each turn
New life under the composting piles
Waiting to be found
Layers of life will unfold
Her voice calls again,
Lifting you to the opening
Offering a gateway
To the beauty that is you.

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