Steadfast Things

Always rocks and bones and God
the soul admires; steadfast things.

Never fathers or the nature of water
which constantly changes. This life

hangs tenuously, fastened between
like hinges of a sagging door;

our bodies stretched and beaten by
the ailment of our endless search.

I want to know the moment you accept
your weakness, unguarded as the dozing birds,

faraway and breaking like the anguished
stars who slowly fade and disappear.

1 comment:

Gerry Boyd said...

"unguarded as the dozing birds". Mmmm... good.