Prime Targets Poem by Mark Heathcote

Like a sparrow hawk, God came to me.
He subjected himself before me, powerless.
And, said? I am to you what is all mighty.
But never the less, I am powerless.
You are the life force of my breath.
Take heed; I am not the source of your death.
I am only the sling; you are my arrow.
I only fired you, as does a child, a yearling.
Does into the wind carrying the yarrow...
It's me, therefore, who kneels before you.
A prime target, you mustn't fail to find aim.
Do your assailant's heart's worst, distrusting.
Powerlessly, one who neither
Shows weakness or cowardice in vain?