Doubt - Mar 10

To draw the string back, with a notched arrow, To sense the taut twine pull against and test The strength of stiffed up shoulders and flexed chest— But not to loose the arrow at the sparrow; To aim, to wait, to track through the narrow Cracks between webbed branches, to feel one’s breast Beating boldly, and breath deep, slowed, suppressed— But not to shoot the shot at the sparrow; Oh the bitter pangs of deeds not done, thoughts Unsaid—how viciously they gnash and gnaw! And of duration, long and dreadful are The laments of a pounding heart’s grim knots. Ah, what work it is such ice then to thaw, As that of one who’s soul has missed its star.