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.