Only you, God,
Can breathe upon our frailties
With your Holy Wind of Life
And stir our mortal bodies
By the quickening
Of your power.

Only you, God,
Can reach down
With the Hand of Love
And embrace the leper
Like a Bride
Or catch the Wind in your arms
And return it to its place.

Only you, God
Have built a treasury for the rain
And can name each star
So it is to you we come
Bearing burdens of pain
Hovering over lives broken and bent,
Sheltering the embers
Under twisted wings

We make a cry that goes forth
Like an Eagle in pain
Caught in the Hailstorm
Flying in the rain

Only you, God,
Can teach her how
As you look down from your
Great and mighty throne
Find her out
And show her the way

It is not for price
She cries
For she cares not
If her nest is lined
With cedar or pine

But only to find
The current your Hand
Has carved
In the wind
Once again

Only you, God,
Can restore her flight
Shine your light
Turn her cry
Into a Song
Help her to find the River
And sing by the green tree

Even a lowly wing,
Poisoned by the sting
Of a hunter’s bullet
Could restore
If it were found in your favor.

Only you, God,
Have the Wings to
Fly with her.

© Copyrighted by Sondra Stallman.
Poems may not be used without written permission from the author.