G.R. Melvin writes

LOST/ JUST

     I

For now, awhile, I won’t let you pull me from the wreckage/

But, how you hold my hand, for both of us

Until the jaws of life  arrives/

Tho’ I’m not at a loss of words, I’m lost

In thought / “I’m lost”, I thought,

“And hiding from the hidden costs.”

.

         II.  Birdsong

.

I’ll dare to speak of sparrows

in shrapnel-filled WW I battlefield winds,

in sharp scarlet dawns/

They’ll sing to find their kind

if they’ve lived,

A song will find its way back,

between the blood & budding daybreak.

.

   III.    J U S T

.

it could be/ a branch of a tree

perched at a high hill

would have a new bud just

breaking through/ it would be just for you

and in time a blossom. You’d just

lift yr arm up/ and pull it down/ just in time

to drink it through

with yr deepest stealing breath.///

They Ain't Worth a Sparrow's Foot -- Alisa Bogodarova  

[A painting commissioned by an American combat veteran. ("Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.  And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." -- Jesus, in Matthew 10: 29-31]