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