Poetry
+Croutons for the wild birds+
(after the fire)
Behind the remains of the burnt out home
Charcoal window frames hanging off the house
With the largest skylight
A roof removed by fire
A flock of waxwings fly by.
The mirrors are blurred by smoke and water and dust and ash
Splashes
We hold true to our houses
and We fall through the chairs when they can no longer support our dreams.
Why scream in a darkening world
When the spoils and toll breaks a humbled human being
Already fully on their knees
In midst of a
god unseen.
Even when the single white angel
Chalice smashed and the silver cross
Melted and the hymnals rise through the ashes with a simple wood cross
Conceived in two pieces.
Faith survives even when prayers are pulled from your heart
And through your lungs
No songs are left unsung
In the face of a heaven
Even if all you have is your flesh and bone
One robe and a demolished home.
Francis a Willey
Feb 28th 2011