If you see this
You will know
How the sparrow slows.
With gentleness of
Flight and speed
Amidst a heavenly glow.
She dips her wings
Along the air
And whistles as she goes.
A song to take
The hurt away
As best she knows.
But little sparrow
Far above
A land that is too bright.
Is burnt by
Such sorrowful souls
Of others’ delights.
’Fly away from the flame
Dear one!
Fly away from the hurt
And the harrowing sun!’
But with a shake
And puffed up chest
And eyes aplomb.
Little sparrow declares
This must not be done.
’For though my wings
May seem a-wilt
my work is far from done!’
And as she swirled
Around the sky
The sweetest sound emerged.
With head pulled back
And wings full-stretched
This is what was heard:
’My wings are made of might.
My wings are made to fight.
My wings are made to fly above.
My wings are made to love.’
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