Tuesday, June 09, 2015

The Caged Eagle

(I began this in Singapore, seeing the birds of prey confined in cages which, though large, are still so much smaller than the wide skies they were created for. Found the poem in my notebook, and finished it this morning)

And is this all there is,
This which I see,
Or should there be
A different life for me?

Infinite skies I see
Beyond this cage
Incite in me strange longings
And strange rage.

Some glory calling,
Glory past my ken.
Stirring in me to rise there
Now and then.

I hear the wild wind
To my heart it sings.
I long to feel its power
In my wings.

All of this safety
Serves but to confine
This unstretched self
From serving the Divine.

I am no twittering sparrow
To content
My being with such
Circumscribed extent.

And should I choose to be
The smaller thing,
And never, never hear
The wild clouds sing?

It is temptation but
It is not life
To shun the dizzy height,
The wild winds’ strife.

Though curtailed and contained,
I choose to be
True to my blood and calling
And heart-free.

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