by Kamila More Cabisada (1963 – ). Written in 1998.
For years I drank, cup overflowing
Not begging but feasting
Every drop a thirst-quenching sip
Every word a life-giving dip
Into the River of Life.
And now with much uncertainty I graze
On new pastures velvet in the haze
Of precarious, wavery sketches
Might we go too far?
Might we run ahead and stray
From safe, tested waters
And miss the Ancient Way?
We might lose our steady grip
on the one, true Rock
as we search for more flock
……and cross dark ravines,
……climb steep cliffs,
……battle strong currents.
your passion for the lost
your disdain for cacophonic bleating
I could be one faithful partner
But you are stronger, swifter
More sure-footed, nimbler
Hardly can my spindle legs
Keep the frantic pace
I, too, have young to raise and tend
They demand much from me, days on end
I look to you for encouragement
That never truly comes.
My heart quietly strains to hear
The word that would not come.
I, too, have sheep to feed and cuddle
I give them milk on sore, cracked nipples
When I am drained, I wobble
Panting for more water
Yearning for a nibble
From grasslands undefiled.
I have young.
So when, at last, the hunt is over
And favored rescuers shout “We have conquered!”
When trumpets blare,
And flags wave,
And sounds of rejoicing echo
Through valleys, hills, and meadows
I once was sturdy and wide-eyed
But now I lie by the roadside
Weeping, waiting, longing
For comfort that would not come.