the sparrow
outside my window
warned me
that
i had
a broken wing
heaven
would be
hard
to reach
was it not
only yesterday
my young friend
that i wove for you
a simple pattern on my loom
i thought so
now i must weave a pattern
using many dark colors
watch closely
for within the patterns lie
what will become
or is
notice here
i have woven two sparrows
caught on winter’s snowy cross
sharing crucified thoughts of yesterday
here’s donovan’s mongoose
being eaten by a snake
and steven stills’ words
come to life within but not without
how sad
no doubt you say
but remember
although a stone thrown across the pond
may seem to float
it quickly sinks
so it is with
all that is and was
sorrows and joys
love and hate
dreams and life
pain and joy
all soon become
only patterns upon my loom
[Note: balpa dola is the reader of the fox tracks…a soothsayer]