There are those who disallow me
But their ways are not mine, and
I cannot stay any longer under this roof
Of anger and humiliation.
We children of the disillusioned grow up orphans:
Mired in shock,
Swallowing poisons dry-eyed.
We live on a most subtle distress
We grow up on baby aspirin.
Now
Out of a rock
I must carve a beating heart
I have a sledge and heavy chisel
To free the fragile core of love
I take up this task against the stone.
I leave home.
My lure has flown far out of sight
And I beat my fledgling wings until I am borne aloft
After its soaring trail.
Where are you?
Faith must be steadfast
Love must be faith in the midst of confusion
Love’s healing must be a subtle thing...
Someday I will catch up to it, but now my lure shoots ahead
Like an arrow laughing for the strength of the bow.
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