Gossamer Wings

Down in between / Under my arms,
Within my atrophied gills,
Silks a pair of gossamer wings.
My fear is their carapace.

When I was born I was born as a larvae
Hatched out to worm my way through a world
With dirty grease and gizzards my gall.

Then again I was born
With these gills and these silks.
These are a glamour gargantuan
Willing to waft me into the glory.

Contented saints flow in the gale;
Poised to the source and the seeking,
Fully exposed and carefreed about.
Breathing agape with winged extensity.

Living with wonder

Wounded by pride / Are those who have tried
Above their measure
And disdaining to train.
Faith must grow and blossom / In the quiet of the Spirit's calm.

The waif tenders wingtips,
Watching the invisible wait,
Obeying the hour,
Trusting the Father,
Carrying the easiest burden.
God's fool to self is dying.

Mike Scudder
Independence Day
1993