Where Eagles Fly

Eagle in Flight (taken in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan) Photo by DHR

This is a poem about the deep vulnerability of prayer. It is a prayer poem seeking to rest in the correct place with God.  It recognizes that my own humanity may, at times, get in the way.

Where Eagles Fly

by Rev. David Rommereim


Last week God schlepped about

The heavens, leaned into earth

To inclined Her ear

To my prayer.


She greeted the nonsense

With a twinkle in the eye,

Since it cleared not the epidermis,

Nor the lymph, keeping its heart

Safely tucked from harm.


She grieved my melancholy,

Knowing it detached all remnant

Of the cosmic dust, that accompanies

The primordial concillience,

Of matter with meaning.

Even my flapping tongue

Could not reveal the mastery of

Her roar and its guiding star.


In prayer, I could not shutter, nor quake

In the sheer silence of her passing.

So, it became a pebble,

Skipping across the lake,

As if this child could solve

The dilemma of being alone.


Afterward, I painted my own inquietude

Yearning for a new naiveté,

That could spin on her whirlwind,

Casting to the bay dead words

Meant for spring, to discover

I could not free my need to know.