The White Feather
 
I’ve watched with Death a dreadful year
Nor flinched until you plucked apart
A feather from the wings of Fear—
Your innocence has stabbed my heart.
 
I took your terrible trust to keep,
Deep in my heart it flames and sears,
And what I’ve sown I dare not reap
For bitterness of blinding tears.
 
I have not scattered starry seed
On windy ridges of the skies,
But I have ploughed my heart indeed
And sown the secrets of your eyes.
 
And now I cannot reap the grain
Growing above that stony sod
Because a shining plume lies plain
Fallen from following wings of God.


Webpage © 2001 ELC
Lane Core Jr. (lane@elcore.net)
http://poetry.elcore.net/CatholicPoets/Plunkett/Plunkett17.html
Created March 18, 2001; not revised.