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.