I, Me and Other
Poetry by Gill Schwartz

SOUL BIRD

As the black crow I am become,
night dyed and with song
that mocks my sorest longing.

Despised object of stone and hate,
seen but remnant of the Plague,
soar I above the field and plain.

Eagles, sparrows prate of flight
yet have their nest on low or high.
Homeless only, wander weary I.

No way but scavenger to be.
Carcass, droppings, my due lone feast.
Yet Omen, Soul Bird all know in me.

Someone, but unknown, thus no one.
Free, yet burdened with weightlessness.
A wandering flux yearning to plummet
to the Unchanging.
A heartbroken witness to the turmoil and pain
seething within and without.
Believing in faith, yet doubting every thought,
accepting the knowledge
that fault turns to salvation
and talent to doom,
that nothing remains,
but will return
with only momentary meaning,
I go towards God with love.

 

 

Copyright Gill Schwartz 2003   www.WisdomVisions.com