Wednesday, 9 October 2019

I am Icarus

I Cannot fly
I am not Jesus
Or even a bird
I am Icarus

And so it seems
My feathers are lead
Faith cannot breathe
And work is dead

And here is the altar
And these my prayers
That crash to the earth
That you put there

I cannot fly
I am not Jesus
Or even a bird
I am Icarus

From this tower of life
From Worry-Tree's bough
As I hold my breath
I take a leap now

But I fall every time
I land on my head
And a shrill small voice
Cries 'Your God is dead'

So I dust myself off
Don't make a fuss
And climb up again,
I am Icarus

I cannot fly
And I'm not Jesus
But almost an angel
I am Icarus

A falling Angel
I am Icarus



M Joseph Burt (01.06.07 with edits from 09.10.19)
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