Flightlessness
Stripped bare.
F
a
l
l
--ing Down.
|
|
"And I don't want to come back down from this cloud."
Plucked / Ph***ed
Light as a feather.
Heavy without them.
Tight as a tether,
Bound to the ground.
Naked flesh - flush from the brush.
Hounded by hounds and hidden by hush.
Quietly I lay me down,
Beside still waters,
And swim to drown,
Waiting still for Our Father.
His eye is on the sparrow,
But none dare look at me.
Blind, for my sight harrows,
I see the nothing you can't see.
Struck / Shucked
I shed my silk like shucks of corn,
And have no ears for bugles blown,
Or little boys blue blowing horns.
I am the shoots of seeds unsown.
I am the chaff of winds unblown.
Torn out and tossed about.
I am the bucked-wheat; I am the missed-spelt
I am thrashing through the thresh --
Hold (on) {stunted. stammering.}
A tongue tangled around a word -- "polished and not felt"
Running round
On legs unsound
I'm nobody you've ever known,
And I am one best left alone.
But I have wings.
And I could fly
Away, if I could only Die.
I am a messenger unentertained.
I am the least of these.
I am the most of you.
And I am not the first who never flew.
© 2001 - Lance Brandenburgh
