September 1, 2008
By Sarah Mills, Vienna, VA

He sits,
Waiting for his torch to lure the eyes of his prey.
For the ice was thick this day-
But he was close to breaking.

Old laws
New Days.
Why was all he had beginning to slip away?
For the frozen tundra ways...
His tribal instinct hath swayed.

His thoughts,
Back to the days when the green fields held child's play
The sun was warm those good days,
When they ran into the night.

The sight
Sight of the caravans like tiny mounds of clay.
He and the others would say-
These people would have to go.

The thunder of explosions crashing in melee
The breath of wind swept rays,
Brought no comfort to their hearts.

He sits,
Now the summer just begun in songs of the jay-
In the moonless springtime gray,
The boy is hoping defeat.

The fish
Have left.
Eyes of golden tears have left the shoreline to lay,
Death by black poison now stray
Far north in the unknown depths.

His hope
Perhaps life of his kin he took would not betray.
Long ago in battle plain,
Mishap left fear in its wake.

The light
Shines now,
In dark depths under ocean of the new rain.
Eyes of the sacred fish gaze-
Held tight to his fearing eyes.

It swims
Its great scales illuminating the depths now flay,
Closer to the fading day-
Toward the boy's new, heart of Christ.

Run toward mountain peaks smiling on stars far away.
On protective hills he lay,
As the fish swims round below

Its eyes
The boy trembling on the snow bank of faded day-
Suddenly clouds go astray,
And the boy knows the true fish.

The ice,
Thins here
And he sees the massive creature circling to say:
"The Spirit of your name is to stay."
And all who come after you.

This is the true sign of faith,
That gives the real meaning: safe.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book

Parkland Speaks

Smith Summer