The Bow and Arrow

This poem, written in 1984, was included in a collection of poems entitled Within Ourselves. It was the third such collection of poem all written within a span of a few months. I had never written poetry before. I believe this outpouring of verse was for a reason, and the subject matter of some of the poems, including this one, foreshadowed that purpose. I dedicated the collection to my father on his 75th birthday.

I am a bow and arrow
The bowstring is drawn back
Quivering with tenseness
The arrow eager for flight.

I am the archer
Carefully drawing aim
On the distant target
Of a world at peace, without fear
With abundance for all.

How we all yearn for flight!
For action, to be doing
Moving along a path.
But the arrow, once released,
Cannot be brought back.
For good or ill, it is on its way.

And so with infinite patience
My soul and I take aim
May our aim be true!

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