rest arrow rest

rest arrow rest

a fiercebird poem 
written January 2021 --

 

we were so comfy in the quiver, snug and warm  
in our soft suede bed, content- so certain  
of our mornings, afternoons, nights, scheduled 
coffee breaks 
dinner time sleep repeat 
 
our fletching is sharp and proud 
groomed and evenly spaced acceptable to our eye 
and for display, we take such pride 
in the presentation 
then one day we feel ourselves being abruptly snatched 
from the quiver – the Archers firm and 
unexpectedly nimble fingers wrap around 
our perfectly self-protected core 
yanking us from our comfort 
 
there’s no notice!!
we feel so unprepared to do the very thing
we were created to do
to be the very thing our form and design requires
to fulfill the calling that bears our name!
why now! we exclaim!
but He does not answer our explosion of
disbelief that we must execute
the purpose of the arrow
instead He steadies us in His hand
placing us upon the bow
 
we are terrified and peaceful at the same time for
The Archer holds us firm and steady
we rest even as our hearts pound, ears buzz, eyes tear
awaiting the great and feared release
every ounce every cell of our body, mind, soul, spirit, heart
will in a moment explode into the revelation of the purpose
and timing of our existence
 
we feel ourselves relax and trust
He is The Sight.
it is not ours to see but to rest on the bow
and trust His eyes trust His strength
to hold us steady until the great release
 
rest arrow, rest
The Master Archer knows what He is doing
He imaged, crafted, and birthed
both the bow and the arrow
when He fires His arrows, they cut through the sea
slice through mighty waters and strike the pathway
no one knew was there
The Archer knows
His aim is perfection
In His hands we buzz with heavens energy
indescribable the beauty, the treasures the jewels and
celestial glow of the bow
from this position shocking and awesome
is the shimmer of the arrow
 
He pulls back with His Mighty Right Hand with no effort at all
the tension is so great no man, no woman
could hold the suspended position-
we contribute nothing to this unfolding release
we can only rest there
arrow rest
 
then the air stands still- there is no sound-
even the birds hold their song for that moment just before…
with bated breath and Holy fear all of creation is still
to not miss the awe and wonder of the cosmic
swoosh that will cut the silence when He releases
The tension…. we wait…. our breath steadies…we rest
 
we feel our composition shift as in His hands
we blaze with fire and lightening pulsating with
the angels’ wings ripping atmosphere thundering through
ancient gates the wheels furiously whirling
the sound of Heaven heard in the realignments
from quiver to bow to release
 
we fly frightened by the roar in our ears
yet it happened so quietly
we are sailing by an entire world unaware of our reveal!
so peacefully we fly!
we laugh and giggle uncontrollably
as we now see His aim is beyond perfection!
we marvel as we see, the universe around us thrashing
but we rest even in the flight
now we can fix our sight on the tip of our form
created for this very moment sailing through
sound and space and time to the predestined mark
 
And we meet our mark
The Archer knew we would!
He foresaw it all
 
He is The Master of the design
He is The Master of the Rest
He is The Master of the extraction
He is The Master of release
He is The Master of Flight
He is The Master of the Mark
He made us ready
for the fire-the wind-the sound-
the bullseye
 
so rest, arrow, rest.

 


 

 

 

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