October 2, 2008

 

it’s hard to soar with the eagles

when my hands are bloodstained

from clutching at the mountain

I want so much to fly

and fear the fall

were I to release my hold

it would be long

and calamitous

but I see them sail

effortlessly upon the wind

their songs of joy assail my soul

(once it had its own)

and I weep

purpose failed

direction lost

I lay huddled against this Rock

unable to do more than breathe

longing for my chance

though it never come again

 

even so

I will praise my God