Old fenceposts on stubborn guard,
They maintain some wired line,
Lean askew some pencilled mind:
Memories of tired times
That a bird now flies across
Stands atop and sings out loud:
Now make amends for staying silent!
The stubborn seed grows up through
My concrete. Just life, a fact,
Asks me with it's humble crack:
Take my awesome power back.
A bird may fly on down to
Eat the weed that had to grow,
To make amends for being strong.
Big boulders are stubborn too
Yet squirming underneath it
Speechless worms so dark and wet:
Afraid of unknown sunlight
A bird suddenly obscures,
Atop the rock with tasty view
Does make amends for speaking outright.
Stubborn wildness in my eye
Lingers in my very core,
Flits from fence to rock, to floor.
How could I have lived any more?
A bird whoes joy, clear and bright,
Must wing away, must fade and die
To make amends for being wrong.
Nik Habermel, May 1995