Broken Bow

Waking up to sparrows dancing in the snow
with their feathers lit up from the reflecting glow
Twenty years ago the creek had already known
that their purpose was a show for Me


Sunrises and steam paint on a canvas of wood
seasoned on by a screen of smoke and soot
and a drippy rhythm that knew it should
copy the still move of the beat inside of Me


Vibrating lungs pressed up against quivering strings
on an empty casket with a din that brings
a billion celestial eyes out to see the rings
awing straight through them from my eyes and Me


Still in the middle of the night in the middle of the forest
with my knees in the leaves and a bow and a horse
archers come flying from the West and the North
surrounding the tree that is the back of Me


Blood in my tracks and my hands gone numb
and my broken bow half and an ascending hum
of a foamy mouth choir with hearts of scum
scoffing to the drum of a defeated Me


I thought this time as an ample kingdom of mine
I saw this place as my manifested angel shrine
Now I'm a dead leaf with weapons of a severed kind
arranged on the floor of the forest - ready to leave Me


A wind picks up and lifts a crunchy leaf
and speaks a soothing word over dying and grief

Your weapon is no use and your foe is no chief

Take off your crown and quiver and let your roots be Me

An enthralling lifting of lights by a yawning fire
sweeping away shadows and waking my dwelling prior
revealing a ravished heart in the snow and a broken bow wire
Entirely for me - not from me - beauty is not me
but You