Claudia Ruiz-Gustafson | An Ancient Voice

A plume, a stone, a broken seal.
A river of words to reveal
Why can’t I feel you?

A bird, a cup, an unmade bed
Another day that unfolds
What are you hiding?

A path, a wave, an opened door
Crossroads wherever I go
Where is your kingdom?

A tree, a hill, a quiet house
Nothing that time cannot heal
Why am I trembling?

A spell, an ankh, an ancient voice
Maybe I am finally awake
Or am I dreaming?