The Flight

Where have you carried me now,
Wings?
If I stay here, I will
Freeze,
If I leave, I will bear on my scarred face
For years
The haunting stamp of what I’ve
Seen;
And nobody will come
Close
To someone, whose eyes are home
To ghosts;
/
Much too far you have carried me,
Wings,
Much too close
To the other side;
Much too brave I have been
Where I should have been wise;
Now it’s too late to listen
To fear
Or to hope to survive
This flight

Ta Prohm

at Ta Prohm Temple, Angkor, Cambodia
at Ta Prohm Temple, Angkor, Cambodia

I thought, she said,
Since I was made of rock,
That naught existed
That was stronger than me;
/
Much time had had to pass
Before it proved me wrong,
Before the roots of trees
Which human hands had felled
/
Grew through their pain,
Forgiving what’d destroyed them,
Embracing me, whom they’d been
Killed for, as their own;
/
I thought, she said,
That I was made of stone;
I see instead
That we have all been made
Of life and boundless hope