Flight Song

We strain our ears for every sound,
Listening for pursuing hounds.
We dare not breathe, no, not a breath,
Or it will surely be our death.

Running, running, breath comes ragged,
Fear cuts deep like razors jagged.
Cold, we’re always cold and shaking,
Worse and worse with every waking.

I conjure up my lost idyll:
My mother’s face, our home uphill,
My father’s laugh, my sister’s grin,
Each image treasured deep within.

Running, running, breath comes ragged,
Fear cuts deep like razors jagged.
We run away from home and love,
Hunters and the Lord thereof.

Reaching out, to never touch:
Why must lonely hurt so much?
How can childhood flee so fast,
My last bright summer gone and past?

Running, running, breath comes ragged,
Fear cuts deep like razors jagged.
Despite despair, so grim and black,
For once we gain a little back.

Voices find us in the night,
Speaking of a lost delight;
Voices telling of our peers –
Something real beyond our fears.

Running, running, breath comes ragged,
Fear still cuts like razors jagged,
But something now has changed our lot:
We’re not alone - we’re not - we’re not.