Thousand Red Birds
We clutch our tiny bits of faith in tight fists shoved firmly in our pockets.
We clutch it suspiciously, so unwilling to let it go we don’t want to lose it.
We clutch it fearing that once it is spent,we will be without hope, cast adrift, out of luck.
Help us loosen our grip.
Help us to pull our hands out of our pockets.
Help us to uncurl our fingers stiffened over time.
to grow,to shimmer,to pulse,to explode into the air
like a
thousand red birds.
– Phil Porter
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