Raising Broken Birds

A melody of hope and faith 

piped through the broken ribs of Icarus 

Accented with tears and sighs

Of a sleep born within the falling

An eidolon of what could be

If only could be what had been

The leaves tussle in surprise

As hopes rise and breathes fall

You promised, father, I could fly,

To be joyous, free, golden as the sun

A gravitational prevaricator 

To always hold me close

Out of love, perhaps, alas more like

To the death you call your life