how does it feel

to be so high

up there, where you are?

is it as wondrous as I think;

or is it lonely, it pushes you to some brink?

all those arrows

shot; missed

I saw you on the pavement

once...long ago

as you preached

          listened  to all your words

          over and over they went

          vigorously the people chanted

          encore! encore!--but they didn't get it

until you showed them

your wings

                                battle-worn

and that fabled bow

you aimed at me--

but your arrows are sometimes faulty

                              left me lost; adrift

                                          looking up, wondering when

                                                      you'll come down and preach again

how does it feel to be where you are?

tell me--