The Eyes of Birds

I wrote this poem in the late 1980s or early 1990s after Marianne and I saw the French film Les Yeux Des Oiseaux about political prisoners in South America. The film made a tremendous impact on me, and I am thinking of it now as I seek discernment on the way forward in my life. I am not a social activist. What am I called to do as I seek to be there for my close friends while also caring about the whole world?

I said I have a single arrow
I will weep when it is gone.

My whole world reels
My little self is shaking loose
The eyes are staring
Why is my sight so dim?

The fabric tears
The seam comes apart
This is no game
When did it start?
What is the limit
Of my finite heart?

The men are beaten, drugged and bound
I cannot bear the awful sound
Only the birds fly free
How can such evil be?

Where I go I do not know
This flame inside
Will it show?

The water is not calm
It boils away
It is high noon
Of my new day.

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