Like a Bubble
Sometimes I feel like I live in a bubble:
Delicate film for skin, vulnerably alive.
I float but not freely, bound by the earth
and its gravity, pulling me down, while
I need to fly, rising from the boys who
pull wings off dragonflies, just for 'fun'.
Ah, when the wind stirs me, swirling me -
in circular patterns, while I breathe fully,
Not afraid anymore, the breeze is so gentle,
yet it playfully moves me around and around.
Gravity is lighter, and I let myself be blown,
from the breath like God's, which created me.
Like a loving father, this kind wind supports me:
He holds me, teaching his young daughter a waltz.
I am lifted and carefree, within his arms, smiling.
I am gazing within the sweet eyes of magnaminity!
Oh, Father, please protect me, yet let me be free.
Keep me from reach of those who would harm me!
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