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He Has Regarded Even the Sparrows

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


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