Broken Wings Poem by Maurice Harris

My precious, little dove
The one I do so much, love;
Not able to take flight
Nor prime for the fight!

Why hath thou forsaken thyself-
You, with broken wings, upon a shelf;
Why for art thou, would you?
Just how, my dear, could you?

Fly now, fast; fly now, far-away from fear,
Leave ghosts-that they be nowhere near!
Protect e'er, our issue, from danger-
So too, from my love, now a stranger!

Recover now drothers, serve now penance-
From this wreckage, may we gain substance!

Maurice Harris,13 May 2008