Three Hawks

A longing difficult to endure…

where no one looks I looked long
upon a bench, up into living sky
dramas transpired against the gesticulating clouds
three hawks playing the wind
not intent upon nutrition
they frolic free, improvising
their alchemy of wing and wind
now honoring unseen currents
now exerting vectors with a will
now these two perform a duet
then those two, then all apart
though still connected by unseen fibers
a vital dance of many minutes
(eternity for a hawk)
then a sense of something decisive
a change has come, a bargain forged
and two departed, forces of nature
on a wild breeze just for their pairing
and the one rose in limp circles
briefly capable of dejection
allowing its mass to submit to the thermals
alone in a bleak expanse
not flapping not flapping just existing
until achieving a certain altitude
it chose a specific heading
and dipping a wing so craftily
it was carried off at high speed
to discern what’s down this new road

I would be there beside you, eagle
but I do not muster the grace
I can only long and wish and abide

how she once
how she once loved
how she once loved me
mark this, cosmos!
oh how she once adored the very filaments connecting my being
and I uncurled myself contented in her pristine womb-soul
healing, recognized for what I was and what I could be
while her sweat lodge peace descended round us
like a blanket of sweetened truth


[ Image : photograph by Lincoln Karim. ] 

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  1. As we used to cheer in softball when our teammate took a ball up at the plate:
    “G double O –
    D – E – Y – E
    Good eye, good eye
    Good eye!”
    Your drama transports you to, being that which you behold, as shown in your wistful coda.


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