The Tangled Wing 1

© J.A. Storey -Taylor 1988

It was not chance

That brought me to thee,

To scoop you from the ground

Up to lesser heights than where you belonged;

To hold you gently within my hands

And raise you to my breast,

Where your innocence and trust

Touched my heart.

Perhaps pain had blunted instinct.

For there was no frail pitter-patter

Beneath my fingertips.

No fear that I could feel or see.

I traced your tiny head

With my cheek

And your song of joy

Was heard within me.

I had no choice.

I had to leave.

Time and conscience

Of human manufacture

Were your enemy.

Not I -

Never I.

I returned to seek

But could not find.

I returned and returned again.

Too late -

The spirit within you departed.

Your courage could not keep you alive:

And you lay

Stiff and cold

With unseeing eyes.


It was you -

Yet you no longer.

The tangled wing which bound you

Will fetter you no more.

I am glad:

I would not have you live

Unable to fly.

Now you may ride an eternal breeze

And soar to kiss the sun.

But you will not be forgotten -

In the lesson which you brought me

And your music, which enriched my soul,

I will remember you.

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