Thursday, May 26, 2011

Flight

Warm and full is
Her voice, her call.
Pulling in breath becomes a chore
As she calls to me.

A tenuous, failing grasp
Is my hold to this plane.
Life and death twain,
Pain and joy held in opposite hands.

Take up my spirit
Into thy loving arms
And I'll leave this vessel
With yours to hold our place.

And finally, respite.
Peace of soul--of spirit, of body.
Rest with you in a place
Defying logic and poet's words.

C.R.E.

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