WING AND A PRAYER

This rhyming poem is taken from the stock of lost verses that I recently rediscovered.
Written just over ten years ago, it already feels quite archaic for, much to my regret, rhyme in poetry is out of fashion nowadays.

HAWK AND SPARROW

The hawk that rips the sparrow from the air
does so without conscience or care:
it kills the sparrow because it is there.

The hand that misdirects the moving pen
destroys a precious nationhood of men
yet signs the treaty time and time again.

The word that sends ten thousand men to war
debases life and chooses to ignore
the human cost that decent men abhor.

The one that wounds the thing that he holds dear
is not a hawk whose conscience is clear:
instead, guilt will consume him year by year.

A soul that seeks to rally to the light
is like an eye that opens with delight,
defying darkness, valiantly bright.

The eye that counts each sparrow as it flies;
the ear that heeds each dying sparrow’s cries;
on such as these the Universe relies.