What can I say that hasn’t been said?...
The darkness in me yearns for more fire.
I am not fool enough to singe my wings.
It is not because they are tattered
I do not fly.
I choose not to use them,
Except for quick hops
Along territory with which I am familiar.
I fondly visualize palms of some distant if,
While gazing in the sun at pines I know.
Spring is not near, only semblances and hints,
If one can live through winter.
I used to relish cold,
Warmed by the heat within.
God gave me sparrows as charges,
Something to protect and nourish.
So I am not a hawk.
They gather to feed, assured
I am no threat.
Days lengthen, creeping slowly,
As my words get shorter.
There is no heaven past the convent wall.
The monastery lies freely cloistered.
Ivy climbs to choke the stones.
Moss and fungus cling yet add character.
There will be no fire today.
Was there ever need of flight?
Close your arms and pray for warmth.
~Ann R Cantu, 2005
