A shadow drapes across the tempered glass
Condemning the caught of each trespass.
These wounded birds who rest in cages.
Little and large , ones of all ages.
With Fragile legs beneath broken wings.
lame limp from pleas and pleadings…
And flight and fights and vain imaginings.
These birds ,these night birds, rest in cages.
They Could have been song birds in other ages.
Flying freely and nibbling at toast!
But now , hunted by man , haunted by ghosts!
They barter and bargain deals for meal
Gamble canteen , they covet and steal .
Crouched , in shadows beneath the tempered glass
Asking “Where is God who can save my ass ?”
These birds oh birds oh jailed night birds!
Have you not seen have you not heard?
A little light has come to deliver a Word.
A gentle light like sparrow, like dove, like rain
taps taps against the tempered pane.
Where their fists have punched to feel something.
Where their head has pressed to know nothing.
Where Screams have come scorch coals of silence.
While mama’s prayers send angels against violence.
This little light, Light like a bird , like fowl, like hail
Cracks cracks in the pane and trails like a snail .,
To let light through the crouched temple of stone.
To enter now the prisoner heart left all alone.
To cauterize the sorrow and morrows of pain.
And make the madman within turn and be sane .
Till wounded bird lifts head to see
Behind the light is Him who sets men free!
And little bird , caught in Fowler’s snare
Finds the Light has loosed his bars unaware.
