An Aerie Silence
An eagle sits upon his perch and cries
A bird inclined to turn away from fear
Surveys his forest through a lens-like tear
And still in grief upon the winds wings rise
Shoulders weak from wracking sobs ‘gainst a stiff breeze
With outstretched wings aloft among the vents
And circling forest marred by earth churned rents
A tightness in the chest amongst the heaves
Eagles rise above the smoke and fly
Battling winds just serve to drive you higher
While still mindful of the burning pyre
You see through tears to prey destined to die
Rodents scurry quickly to your holes
Aerie dwellers have you as their goals
© 9/20/2001 Bart Breen
Somehow as I read this, I knew it was about 9/11/01. Good write!
I really like this poem.
It's creativity is amazing.
I love the part where you wrote "Eagles rise above the
smoke and fly."
That really most be America's goal now.
To still be able to fly after the smoke clears.
You are very talented.
I hope you'll stop in and check out some of my works.