tall

Spires


Topped
with crosses
or crescents
or crows
or crowned
with beacons
that blink
in the night;
they are the same.
We build
towers and totems
to find our way back
to ancestors
and faith
and safe harbor.
Like initials carved
in old beech trees,
they tell
where we’ve been,
who we’ve loved,
and where hearts
have found homes.
We take a walkabout
or a moonwalk;
paddle down streams
and sail across oceans,
testing our symbolism -
the lighthouse shining
after storms at sea,
the good mother welcoming
the child who’s been away,
the sturdy oak
sheltering the weeping willow.
The tower of strength,
never casting the shadow of a doubt.


- Ralph Murre