Sunday, September 30, 2012

Red Hawk

I imagine myself a red hawk in the maelstrom
with ten crooked feathers and burrs in my tail
I’m coasting the highways of tornadic slipstream
just now and then bruised by a flurry of hail

I see myself traveling swiftly to nowhere
aware of each molecule set in my path
yet void of the power to stray from that given
I envy the blessings and swoop o’er the wrath

If only a branch would appear in the distance
one leafless, bedraggled and bent, I’ve no care
for one moment's perch would be all I’d be asking
that one moment's rest would be all that I’d dare

I’ve morsels to search for, those mice of the meadows,
the snippets of good in a world gone so wrong
and fealty to gods of the sky and their whispers
I must be a voice to their powerful song

There’s hope in the sunrise, though darkness keeps pressing
there’s hope in the reach of our soft spirit’s glide
I’ll wing to a place where the air breeds less anger
and give you directions once I am inside

There’s hope in the sunrise though darkness keeps pressing
 keep hope lest the storms might envelop us all
 fly with me if able, and bear for the heavens
 where peace is a creature, that comes when we call.