A tremor colors the dryness,

a voice cuts through the gale:


“This one belongs to the journey,

should she choose to believe.”


A bell chimes in Heaven,

a shadow calls her name.

If death is not a beginning,

why do we reach for the sky?


A wave crosses the desert,

a shiver moves the plains:


“This one will taste the harvest,

she will carve the bark of faith.

A message’s dawned on her sorrow,

her task throughout the land:


 “This one is marked for greatness,

should she choose to believe.”

Maryse G. Copans © 2011

Photograph taken in Eygalières, France (courtesy of Francine Godet © 2011)