The Big Picture

I was clinging
to the inside
of my shell

your voice said
come on out
all shall be well.

I believed,
and when I did
I was rid

of the heavy
weight Id known
all my life,
which Id called home.

I looked around.
I was alone.

Then wings swooped
out of the sun:
I sensed a presence
refuge, none . . .

While the beak
broke my eyes

your voice said

though I sympathise
I cant intervene,
and strange to tell
it doesnt matter

all shall be well
if not for you,
for someone else:

my jobs the Big Picture.

Tom Vaughan

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Tom Vaughan would be pleased to hear them.