Chapter 8 - day13 poem 2 birdsong
Submitted April 1, 2016 Updated April 1, 2016 Status Incomplete | I'm calling poetry abstract art without color :D this is a great place to post my Napo creations, with the chapter system and all.
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Chapter 8 - day13 poem 2 birdsong
Chapter 8 - day13 poem 2 birdsong
Beyond my thriftshop curtains
sings a bird,
desperately yearning.
Soon his endless calling
—the same need, unmet, repeated, over and over—
vanishes into background,
I cannot answer to his cry
he is not calling me.
I eavesdrop and empathize
to no avail
here in the semi-dark
of a sunny day I wait alone
waking suddenly now and then
to find no changes.
my endless crying
like that bird
fades to background,
an unanswerable tortured cry.
I have done my part
if by that you mean
all that was in my power.
I will rise.
I walk into the sunshine
feel the breeze,
rehearse a cliche I remember from long ago
that one about learning to live with unsolved problems
yes I know they call it a motto, but all the same
-scripture -quote- cliche -motto -verse of song
they all link their repeating hooks into my soul
like those spikes that climbers drive into sheer stone walls of mountain
they give me something to try to hold onto
as I scale the outside walls
of integrity
of personal connectedness
of community
of inclusion
do I whine? do I murmur? Do I cast the blame on others to avoid my part?
not by intention
all I want is to take part
to be a part
to do my part,
to know my part
to be given a part within my power
without having to pound any square pegs
into round holes
maybe
these square pegs are made for stacking not insertion
to build up a new wall,
to build up a taller tower
to find a new paradigm
to be what we really are
—constantly striving for more—
and let that be enough.
sings a bird,
desperately yearning.
Soon his endless calling
—the same need, unmet, repeated, over and over—
vanishes into background,
I cannot answer to his cry
he is not calling me.
I eavesdrop and empathize
to no avail
here in the semi-dark
of a sunny day I wait alone
waking suddenly now and then
to find no changes.
my endless crying
like that bird
fades to background,
an unanswerable tortured cry.
I have done my part
if by that you mean
all that was in my power.
I will rise.
I walk into the sunshine
feel the breeze,
rehearse a cliche I remember from long ago
that one about learning to live with unsolved problems
yes I know they call it a motto, but all the same
-scripture -quote- cliche -motto -verse of song
they all link their repeating hooks into my soul
like those spikes that climbers drive into sheer stone walls of mountain
they give me something to try to hold onto
as I scale the outside walls
of integrity
of personal connectedness
of community
of inclusion
do I whine? do I murmur? Do I cast the blame on others to avoid my part?
not by intention
all I want is to take part
to be a part
to do my part,
to know my part
to be given a part within my power
without having to pound any square pegs
into round holes
maybe
these square pegs are made for stacking not insertion
to build up a new wall,
to build up a taller tower
to find a new paradigm
to be what we really are
—constantly striving for more—
and let that be enough.
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