Falconry

animals_hero_red-tailed_hawk_0 (1)

A screeching hawk climbs overhead,
Gliding, swooping in pursuit,
Her flight a perfect merger
Of beauty, purpose, and skill.

If only, if only
I could capture such a hawk
Train and bend
That beauty and skill
To do the bidding of my will.

Sent forth from my hand
In a powerful surge of wings,
Pummeling air,
Finding the perfect draught of air
To glide upon,
Turning, searching for prey,
Then sighting her trophy, her prize,
Sweeping down, a beat of wings,
A shift of body,
Talons extended,
What seems a pause,
A slowing,
Talons snatching,
Squeezing, sinking into a snake’s skin,
Wings beat, once, twice,
A cry as she lifts her body
And her limp prize,
Upon the air to glide,
Turning homeward,
The purity of her purpose,
A dance upon the air,
Done.

If only, if only
From my hand could fly
Such beautiful purity of purpose.

Knowing

Rewind the archives of a past
Find little worth remembrance

And now, only hours,
Removed from your side,
I could close my eyes,
Reach out my hand,
Trace each line and curve,
Comprising your grace,
Feel each rise of breath
And sleeping sigh
Leaving your chest
Resting against my back
And all my hard, squared off edges
Become like wax,
Softening and melting away,

Knowing,
For once, in all my years,
Knowing.

Disowned 

More delicate than our dying Earth,

The fragile blood of our children dries,

Blistering in a baking sun

While we watch 

Our babies gasping 

Like hooked fish.

Our humanity broken,

We are wooden pawns 

In the game of masters,

Men who would be kings

Posturing outrage 

Over plans known

By them alone

Made in black secret rooms,

Selling us all to Mephistopheles,

Trading on the fragility of our attention 

With the lives of our children,

Who made us human. 

Nothing is left to wonder at,

But if this is the day 

Humanity made

God tearless. 

Creation

child.jpg

I carved you
from the stone of me
chiseled out your edges,
inside and out,
freed you from the depths
of my abyss,
while my ears
felt the sting
of the hammer pounding,
my bones felt the crunch
of the chisel chipping,
my skin felt the ripping slice
of stone shards flying
tearing through all
flesh and bone of me
until
there was you
sculpted better than
the worth of me
cast off from you
I absorb in finality
what it is
in the truth of God
and pray.

Let The Horseman Ride

The captain of industry forgets his history
As a populous forgets all the tales of prophecy
While writhing in the seduction of lies.

Thus, all the best in humanity is left behind.
Water boarding, black sites, torture now promised.
Yes, the captain says to let the horseman ride.

The angry world forgets
The path of anger makes the “world blind.”
Yes, the captain says to let the horseman ride.

The sun dons a robe of sackcloth, grieving
The ocean’s rasping last breath,
As the moon’s face rained blood tears,
Turning rivers red.

Yes, the captain said to let the horseman ride.