All of my courage isn't quite enough
to make the suicidal jump from me
to something else, surrendering to love,
not defending, but trusting to be free.
I live like lichen on a naked brink,
holding relentlessly, to my last day,
against the clear-eyed wind; I eat and drink
and curse and stall, lest I be swept away.
Send what I need, O God, a gale-force blast,
a hurricane, tornadoes, lightning's trace,
whatever else it takes to loose my grip so fast;
or else please help me trust your gentler grace
and dare to leave my fledgling nest at last
and spread my wings, and soar out into space.