A Poem: Turn

Turn, turn
with the rolling seasons
with the turning earth.

You need do nothing
but be still.

The earth’s dancing trajectory
around a moving sun
that brings us in its wake

has us held.

The hand that tilts
and turns us
like a spinning top

tell us to trust.

There are moments on our beds
when all is quiet
and our ceaseless actions are stilled,

that we hear the winds of space,

and feel the rhythm
of this endless dance
under the stars.

Where the one

who partners us
calls us to his arms
to move in step with him.

Yes, we turn

in rolling autumn leaf
and blossoms lifted and
borne up

in offering.

In summer’s march
across a thawing land
we turn and

stretch our arms of praise.

And in winters coming,

we curl down
with the seeds
that await a revolving world.

We turn with day’s rise

into the emerging light
and slumber
under evening skies.

We turn and turn

whether we know it or not.
Would that we would know who it is
that asks us to dance.

Who has us held as spinning tops
in his hand.

Ana Lisa de Jong
March 2018

Photo by Andrew Gloor on Unsplash


2 thoughts on “A Poem: Turn

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