Chained Hawks


Warrior poets

Let it kill us again and again

We allow pain to bloom and writhe

Knowing it transmutes to something higher and drags our sorry souls with it

We fly

Rise high

On the spinning and weaving

breathing in the suffering

And breathing out love

It’s why people draw near

Tell us their stories

Hear them played back

Hot embers carried by others

Taken from their chest

Poets burn their hands

And hearts

Handling all the broken things

The shards they walk on

With bare feet

Taking the messy and scattered

Loading them into words

Turning the barrels that

Others point at their


And letting them fire

Harmlessly into a blue sky instead

Balloons at a funeral floating high

Carrying pain

Faces upturned watching them drift


Eulogies, bible passages, poetry, words


Release pain

Out of the chest

Everyone wants to rise


It’s why we look up

Searching for help

The perception from above

Spreads the painful focus

Blunts the sharpness

We all carry these leaden weights

In our heart

All carry this pain

But poetry changes it into something that

Offers in the rhyme

And rhythm something different

That the heart can begin to find a beat to

People come close

They want us to breathe the pain

And see it turned to love

Hugs help the body to comfort itself


Draw out the wound

Bandages applied



Drains out the toxins

Bleed through the lines

But it takes a toll

And many poets learn to live

With broken wings

Chained hawks

Unable to fly

Except when the hood is removed