I am like a lonely bird on a housetop,
the roof is smooth, hot, and
my claws don’t stick.
My hollow bones, weak in the wind,
echo my cries and vibrate—
still once I flew,
Once I dived
to catch
insects my bread
now only ash
fills and I weep
in the same pools that I
wash and I keep losing
feathers like dry grass
withers my quills that
clung strong, and proud, once.
Indeed, I forget
the crumbs the children leave
and I breath
bitter the sweet I
knew so much then I
did so much when I
was so much now I
lie awake on a wire,
I wither, at night
I die.
But Thou,
Thou dost abide.
Psalm 102
Comments
Post a Comment