Author’s Note: I did a lot of spring cleaning over the past week, and came across some older poems from earlier in the decade.  “The Primal Call” was inspired by a silent walk taken the last morning of a five-day retreat in southwest Montana. Nearly four years later, its message resonates with  urgency and accuracy…


Stark, dark morning.

The hardest and most naked time of all.

The allure of sleep, the battle with ego, the call of the larger world,

all seductive sirens, screaming for their own attention and desires.

Stumbling in the void of dawn, laboring up the path,

Lost in self-made clouds of doubt and fog and limited vision,

The rapid hoot-hoot-hoot-hoot-hoot of a great horned owl

awakens me to the present moment,

Reminding me,

To go deep,

For all the answers lie within.

Calling me,

To Move,

Beyond all fear, all discomfort, and all hesitation.

Asking me,

If not now, when?

If not you, then who?

I hear the primal call.