Heroic Work

Excavation

Brush. Breath.

A dentist's pick.

Slowly down the ladder 

into darkness.

Feeling towards bones

held by the weight

of accumulated soil and stone.

Patient. Gentle.

Tender and reverent.

Seeking with fingertips

a change in texture 

that belies what's buried

asking for release.

Until,

(after many small acts

and much time has passed)

the beast sees light of day again--

and it is revealed that

love has overwritten fear 

(enough)

to uncover the structures within, 

all holey and holy. 

Disabling

Caged by alarm,

this pulse carries deadweight.

A less than, but not nothing,

of potential energy.

Moving past grievances,

we find grief (and roll up our sleeves 

for the delicate work ahead:

a stakeout, 

a blaring, 

a soothing, 

repeat)

A catalog of hesitancies:

anxious glances,

guarded moments of unfurling, 

tentative experiments 

with lift and loft.

There is flight 

(only occasionally at first).

Then there is soaring-- 

brilliant across the sky.