Clarion

I saw my shadow
backlit
against the morning sky,
a giant stretching its hands for miles
and miles,
thousands and more,
as though to say, "behold, I am born."

Cloud decks beneath me
and engine noise,
I am made of distances
that must be crossed,
I am made of silences that must be voiced:
a trumped call,
a clarion voice.

Against those palisades
I am only a man,
only me,
and yet...

the sun behind me lends wing,
and I raise my arms out wide.