I am a cave among dwellings
surrounded by boulders.
as they sauntered down
(I might fall)
falling like an dusty angels
I want to stutter and shake in defiance
but I am forced into silence.
The rocks drop on me, birds fly Jauntily
lifting me vainly
back to the ledge where I have fallen over thousands of times with the rocks.
are you still trying to help?
Might I ask, birds, if the wind has ever lifted you up on bubbles
and you heard a swift voice through the air
or felt the angels ?
I’m just wondering
just wondering if maybe the rocks aren’t really falling.
Maybe I’m just being reborn,
again and again.
Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry