What Is Yours To Give?
I have no wind in my mind,
no prophet’s spirit,
no storm carrying me,
no whirlwind of fire,
why should I open my breath for you?
I have no grip upon the mountains,
no breast for the stars,
no power to do miracles,
not in heaven nor on earth,
why should I welcome you
with the tears of my eyes?
The world sinks.
It falls into the soulless pit.
I have nothing to save anyone with.
Why should I lead you on?
Why should I betray you?
The ringing stone,
the beating wings of music,
the elegant harmonies
of trees and clouds,
or of deep earth cores and seas,
or all the harmonies
of the endlessly travelling colours of space,
I don’t know their key.
Why should I utter a sound?
The sighing sound of the lost
is a sound terribly out of tune,
terribly tortured with discord.
Come with me to the place where I stood dead
and was made to stand alive
before the God of the final judgement,
with the sentence of truth
coming down upon my soul.
Come to the tree in space
where the Friend of Israel sung hymns.
I have no other means to show you
why I am able to lift a finger of kindness
and to embrace a broken spirit,
though I am unworthy to think.
Convicts who await sentencing
have no power of kindness.
Only those who have been judged by The Holy One,
weighed and measured in the fingers of truth,
have some truth to give.
Unless they have come to their end in God's mercy,
how can they lay in their grave at night
and know what is theirs to give in the morning?
Come to the tree in space!
Hear the Friend of Israel sing!
View this poem as a Prezi Presentation
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ABOUT ME
Max Carl Kirk
Mellow Wolf Publications - - - If you have any questions about reproducing any Mellow Wolf publications feel free to contact me.