Peregrine

The bird, as it softly files
Encounters a cloud.
The two collide, and yet the bird,
Who is I, emerges unscathed.

The bird, as it gently soars
Encounters a storm.
As they collide, the bird,
Who is I, dodges lightning and survives.

Over mountain, over river
Flying high and free
The bird, who is I
Is in its element.

The bird, as it dives
Reaches a point in its life
When it enters a situation
From which it cannot pull out.

And this is the time now
I cannot recover from my dive.

I need help
My wing is bent
My feathers ruffled
My sight is poor.

You there below me, now above me
Are of a kindly sort, I feel
Would you be so fair as to
Assist me.

The bird now soars no more
For the bird, who is I, is dead.
I was wrong in judgement then
And now no more.

You who destroyed me when I was down
Shall pay, in time, for my death
For I shall fly again -- higher, faster
And dive again ---
                upon you.

A killing blow . . .