I put out my poems on my hands
Like food for the birds.
I listen out for their coming,
For their wings against the sky.
I hear them first and close my eyes.
Sometimes the sound of their fluttering
Makes me afraid, but I stand firm and I hold up my arms
Against the dark and their mysterious coming.
They will not attack me;
That’s what I like to believe,
But even if they do,
This my task does not abate
The food is theirs and I must wait.
Who are they?
Someone has appointed them
And me I must suppose as well.
What instincts drive us to such ends as this
I do not know
But here they come, the twilight cries
And thus it seems to be arranged and ordered
By another hand than mine,
That holds up my now weary arms
As the dawn breaks through.
Sarah de Nordwall September 17th 2006
I, for one, am so thankful that you are holding up your hands Princess Sarah. You are a true inspiration to me. You are putting out into the world the things that are good and pure and noble and true and lovely.... and I am so thankful that God created gutsy people like you. People with such courage and boldness to keep offering up whatever you have to offer... regardless of how many birds come and feast.
ReplyDeleteThere's only One that matters anyway Princess. And He's holding up your arms.
Your poem encourages me. I've had a wasteful few days... your poem has helped me to realise that I need to get my hands back in the air.
Lots of love,
Helen xxx
delicious breadcrumbs,
ReplyDeletethankyou sarah
x