It Is Love
At times I worry I am a bird
Trapped in a cage
Meant to keep me away
From ideas and doctrines
Threatening to deceive.
At times I fret I’m a plant
Cramped inside a pot
Meant to keep me restrained
From my nature that is
Meant to ramble.
My wings get bruised
From flailing, and
My roots become gnarly
From probing ways
To escape confinement.
To survive I
Seek to be still, and
Quiet my heart to
Sing my songs and
Bloom where planted.
Yet, I wonder who locked me in?
Am I here in this cage, in this pot
By my own free will? Then I realize,
Indeed, this is so. I pledged myself
to this place many years ago!
I chose the Ark, where I fly free
And sing as I please.
I chose the Garden, rooted deep
In fertile soil to thrive as I please.
It is love that keeps me here.
Each dawn, perched on my windowsill
I sing a fresh, new song of Joy.
At dusk, the fragrance of my blooms
Waft to the heavens, in
Rapturous prayer to my Creator.
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