Tuesday, 5 August 2014

To a Sparrow*

You came like a bird blown from its nest;
 The years of bearing up had borne down on you
Crushing out your life breath.
The simple song we hear
No more from your frail lips,
Though its echo in our hearts means
We will not forget
We will not forget.

But fast fall the folds of time
On memory and emotion.
Fold upon fold of thick silent time
A few short days
But blanketing back your flight
Long long ago so it seems.

But there are hidden channels
Through which the flood of grief sweeps
Leaving me floundering and drowning
And even when it is gentler
Its waters bear me away to an empty wasteland
Into which I cry,
"What have I held in my heart?"
Finding the shape of your absence much greater
"What have we held in our hands?
And where has it gone?"

She was a sparrow in our hands
Nestled away from the cold night
And the dark winter.
Looking up I see
She is a sparrow still, bearing up and far away
Through clear and fearless skies
                                               Wilf  07/1998          

 For my mother who went to be with the Lord on Tuesday 24th of June 1997  

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