Flight I come also to listen, changing my point of view like a bird darting from perch to perch with invisible ears; hearing the clearest strains from the throb of my own pulse. I rise to embrace, wanting to know, yet everything rises faster still, just beyond the tip of each wing. I cannot return to the same perch for nothing remains unaltered, especially myself. I hear Sermons trumpeting among the clouds pretending to be thunder; yet it is my soul that flashes, knowing nothing more divine than itself. I see the walls of Nations draw lines on the land and my bones rebel against the gravity; I refuse to be defined by anything that pulls and curse the fatigue my aching muscles betray. I sense reflections beneath the surface below where the water is quiet and shadows dance like a pair in the act of becoming parents; a good place to stop and drink. I have learned love as if inventing it. I have wrestled life as if it made a difference. I have rearranged the songs as if singing with the Creator’s voice.

Flight © 1977/1998 by Tobin James Mueller
"Lustre" published by Freedom Press.
All rights reserved.