Callings

Callings

Breathless. Plunged in cold anticipation,
Thoughtless of the present passing.
Senseless of all nature’s motion, crying
Voiceless pleas for heartfelt contemplation,
Mindless of concern for wealth, sweet ease, or clout.
Sightless, swooning in the shadows –
Hopeless nearly, in this quiet.
Lifeless. Wakened: “Lazarus, come out!”


A brief explanation:

The poem is meant to invoke two perspectives with a similar thought pattern, which is communicated primarily through the first word of each line. These can be taken in any order. Initially, you can consider the poem through the perspective of the cadaver. It lays breathless, thoughtless, senseless, voiceless, etc. But the presence of death shouts to any and all observers to stop and reflect, prompting questions such as the following. What is important in life? What matters? What determines why I do what I do? What hope is there after death? When, through the seemingly all-encompassing power of death, everything seems hopeless and beyond even despair itself, a voice is heard. The words are taken from John 11:43, and show the power of Jesus Christ in raising the dead, bringing life to the lifeless. The anticipation in the first line is meant to give a hint that there is indeed some hope in the midst of a fallen, death-laden world. And this hope is found in Christ, as His resurrection becomes the basis of hope for the future resurrection to life of those who believe in Him.

The second perspective is that of my own, true to my experience, though not all in one unified moment. As I view the person before me for the first time, I am breathless, thoughtless of what’s going on around me. My focus is on the being before me who once was a person. As I fall into meditation, I become ignorant of the scene around me and desirous that others would join with me in considering those matters which are of first importance. Such was the impact of the moment on my psyche, that I really did have my vision go in and out, being sightless and swooning. In the face of the reality of death and the task before me of becoming a doctor, I often sense some degree of hopelessness. It’s in this lifelessness of my own and the lifelessness of the passed being before me that I am wakened from my slumber by the words of Christ, which remind me of a power that is in me that goes beyond me. He will help me. Through me, He will heal, physically and spiritually. He calls me to come to the task He has given me, and He gives me the power to do so.

The title revolves around the multiple callings in the poem. The cadaver calls. I call. Christ calls.