Poem January 30, 1984 Issue

Epiphany

PHYLLIS STODDARD

Mine are quiet urgings—
No histrionics.
So simply averred: angelic word
If I do not listen I'm likely to miss:
"Beloved, not that but this"
(To me, God's revelations).
Often they come, I'm beginning to know,
Dressed not in fire but in everyday attire.

PHYLLIS STODDARD

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