Another sorrow
The ostrich burrows
Another day to hide the face of what is
feared outside

The ground is ringing
Wet earth now clinging
To the face once held high
‘Gainst the gale of past pleasure
‘Til lost was her flight
Make your choice
State your name
Clench your fist
Hide the pain . . . but don’t run from this flight

To beg or borrow
An hour tomorrow
Our moments few, the gains of time we clutch
Yet, still seep through
Arise, awaken, none yet forsaken
Bear your cross as inflamed
Nothing’s lost, all is to gain
You have only to gain

Eye you mark, stake your claim
Focus far, fear abstain
From this marksman’s true aim . . . take aim

Copyright 1995, Blanche Fury