little c

it's not always
      a blinding light
      that drives
               us
         to our knees,
   it is sitting in
   the dark
            comforting
      a scared child;

it's not always
      a burning bush
      calling us
            to take off
            our shoes
            and listen,
   it is jumping
   into a pool
      of frigid water
      for a charity;

it's not always
      cherubim flitting
      about the rafters
            of a cathedral
         as a mighty
                    voice
                 speaks,
   it is the silence
      as we catch
      the tears of a
             mourning mother
        in our hearts;

not every
            call
    comes with a
    capital
                
C

(c) 2015 Thom M. Shuman