Comment on this article

Tiny Sparrows
by Deborah Russell

There are miracles
in my life that never
I swaddled them
pink and white -
attached them
to milky breasts
and nursed them
full and fat...

Small miracles
that grew too fast -
distant, stubborn,
spoiled and raw

Tiny sparrows
that broke their wings
to fly from home, but
they are miracles
none the less...
and wearily
I must confess
these are the miracles
of my flesh -
and mother's bones

They formed
a lake of tears
and pools of laughter
became the pillars
of my strength

My land of miracles
that never cease
and never cease
to amaze me

Return to:

[New] [Archives] [Join] [Contact Us] [Poetry in Motion] [Store] [Staff] [Guidelines]