Sparrows’ wings across the sky
Bringing on an early night;
Rising where the oceans die,
Driven to untimely flight.
There’s no time and there’s no space,
Neither movement nor escape;
Sparrows picking at my face,
Sounds of ripping, bone and scrape.
Here I suffer, here I sing,
Ripped to shreds down to my spine,
Tears of joy it still would bring
For your hand to rest in mine.