The Archer

Bow tightly strung, shoulders taut

I stand poised on mountains

With gravely shaking legs

A seasoned eye and mind my gain

I take note

Of lethal acrobatic height

Pluck splinters to their bitter end

And sing all manner of warbled lullabies

Stalwart grace and knees well spent

Shaping small earthen hearts toward infinite Divine

With ears that hear what is never said

I point thoroughly to places hard to find

After years of valiant deposit

And sanding down closets of doubt

My bullets form well below the sand

Their eyes and minds in route

In distances felt more than seen

Measure taken of all failed stands

Lifting hands to check the wind

Lifting wings to check for span

Through nights of brave and cautious razing

Smoothing the onset of every hope

And offering the killing of every kind of loving

But to firstly place that One withstanding grope

Carving sharp heads to bind to blazing hearts

Wringing from flint the finest work

And circling every shadowed angle

Watching imperfections or stony dirt

My muscled years of squinted eye

And little hearts of trusting shape

Sent forth with quick fast arcing flame

Sights confirmed for deadly aim

Letting great hands move me

Through positions of every honing sense

My hands holding with the ease of an archer

An arsenal to silence the largest defense

Jillian Rose

"As arrows are in the hand of a warrior,
so are the children of one's youth"
Psalm 127:4