I watched the last sparrow fall
in a land where love had long ago rotted to dust.
Broken sparks fell from corrupting fires,
too choked in shadows and smoke
to give light to the eyes of the dying dead,
and a purple blaze danced in the skies,
like a knell of doom that no one willed to read.
The enemy is near,
and no one knows his name for what it is.
What once was,
soon will be no more,
and the dance of the long deception,
will end in an endless fire.
I heard this once on the wind,
and knew that the world was ending,
and saw the streams of the broken hearted
marching along a crystal flow.
To where did they go?
To a home I had known,
knit from humbled pines and nestled
in the cloven stone,
from whence the crystal river came.
I drank deep,
and gazed long,
and knew that in that once forgotten home
all that I had wanted, I would find.
I tarried in the growing shade,
held by the bind of prideful ways,
afraid of the threat of a broken blade,
lured by the promise of some nearer glade,
until the rot reached deeper than my bones,
and the place where the hooks had held my heart of stone
revealing and releasing within what had already been remade.
What does it mean to run a road with stumbling steps,
to breathe and bear the beat of burning blood,
to hear the song of the dawn,
and learn of life and of love?
My legs had not known how tired they could be,
my lungs had not known the burn of the air,
and had anyone told me how much harder it is to bear a heart that can hurt,
I might have continued to lie in my grave all alone.
Yet all of it,
tells me love is worth going on,
and that faith grows with following,
and that hope brings us home.
So come then,
that wind is still calling
as the world wonders not,
and the bound and the broken,
and the beaten, the blue,
(This poem was written as a response to a poem by Blair King called “Collapsing Faith”. You can probably find her poem over here at: https://peoplethingsandlife.wordpress.com/2015/08/09/collapsing-faith/)