If you find it sell all you have

I crave what I cannot explain
and what I cannot see,
but that if I saw,
I would steal and run and hold
high above my head.
High like a captured flag;
or high, like a seized cap
whose owner is gaining,
about to pounce and tackle me—
but I keep eluding him.
This ache within,
like a swallowed tooth;
this longing above,
refusing to fall into view—
a rumour racing ahead of me
holding high a flag I cannot see.



  1. Hi Steve, thanks for the new writing – I love the form, we don’t have enough of that in Canada I don’t think. You are heading in to a busy time at the mission now I am sure! Blessed Advent,

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