February, I sleep
under synthetic
imitations of animal
hides, faux tiger furs
envelop me, the victor
of a battle between
apex predators,
won with guilt and
a credit card
one morning I look up
from any one of the
light-boxes I lose
myself in nightly,
to see outside,
the real light,
the sunlight,
is changing
soon I will feel the sting
of burgeoning spring
begin to thaw
my crone’s talons
I’ll venture outside
and dive up, searching
for thermals to
ease my journey
no vulture, I, in my
widening gyre*, am
but a harbinger of
my own death, a
sacrifice to call
out mourning doves,
so we all may swoop
and dive, and eat them,
so fattened they are
with unknown sorrows
we’ll soon say goodbye
to evening winter skies
striped with black clouds
at sunset, like claw marks
on graying human flesh
I will leave my
wintering grounds
for home, to nest
and procreate, to
please my mate,
to feel again
warm blood
on my beak,
the taste of home
more than once on
my Hejira, my will
will falter and I’ll dream
of plump round mice
hand-fed to me, if I
allowed myself to be
taken by a man, and
owned, wearing
his hood in
submission
then a flash of red
calls from afar, a
cardinal, raw and red,
high contrast in
his pageantry
he leaves behind
a wife, dull and drab,
with squawking little
mouths to feed
I eat him whole,
beak and all
my point made,
later, I will vomit
up the parts of him
that are no use to me
I eat serpents, too,
I fear no beast, the
wind will carry me like
a devoted mother
and now I wait,
lilies watered,
book open, I am
purified, my plumage
painted white,
hovering above the
Virgin Mary, awaiting
at last, annunciation
————————–
My entry for week 85 of Open Link night at the dVerse Poet’s Pub. I was inspired by Joseph Hesch’s intro on the coming of Spring to write something kind of about nature (a stretch for me) but still kind of about human nature and frailty.
*a nod to my favorite Yeats poem, The Second Coming
There are 2 illustrations that accompany this poem, one by the master El Greco, the other just by me and my iPhone
February 27th, 2013 at 5:01 am
You certainly capture all the cruelty of nature. We see it often as so beautiful and cuddly, forgetting that its laws are stark and unforgiving.
February 27th, 2013 at 6:29 am
Nature surely is red in tooth and claw – and beak and talon – and you’ve captred something of the cruel necessity of that in this poem.
Thanks for the follow at my blog.
February 27th, 2013 at 6:48 am
am
but a harbinger of
my own death…was an early line that jumped out at me….and much of this is the cycle of nature…life taking life for life…i wonder too at our own nature….
February 27th, 2013 at 3:57 pm
The second stanza jumped out at me in reference to light boxes and the light changing as light affects our moods and even our thought processes (I believe). It’s true that this world is ruthless and even though they say that winter is bitter and painfully depressing for many, for me Spring is when I often feel the most depressed which is a bit odd but I like the solace and peace of winter.
February 27th, 2013 at 9:12 pm
I enjoyed your imagery, and your juxtaposition of nature’s fearsome purity against human ideals, and how you wove that narrative into the context of religion. Your portrayal of the hawk: mirroring the vision an angry God– terrifying in his perfection and power; a law higher than human understanding; a God of wine and blood. You evoked some powerful archetypes here, and with great skill.
February 28th, 2013 at 8:33 am
Herein lies a stark reality– I see (read) it as neither cruel nor sugarcoated– nature is like that, not cuddly bunny rabbits, but adherence to instinct for food and nest. Thanks for the “reality” ~ peace, Jason
February 28th, 2013 at 7:24 pm
vivid imagery
March 2nd, 2013 at 11:58 pm
Thank you, all of you, for reading. The evening after I posted this, a huge hawk practically landed on my windshield. I was driving slowly, on a quiet street near a golf course. I swear he looked me right in the eye. I stopped and watched him land on a low tree branch, and stare me down. I looked away to my iPhone in hopes of taking a photo. He took flight immediately when I averted my eyes, I saw his shadow in my peripheral vision.
March 3rd, 2013 at 5:17 pm
Wyeth, this was astounding. If you had not commented on my blog (thanks for doing that), I might have missed it! I really appreciate your strong, kind words on the poem about why I write.
Winter for us SAD types is truly a character in and of itself. I admire your ability to show the emotional hibernation as well as the one that occurs in nature. The hawk is one of my favorite creatures of the air… the grandeur of their wingspan, I think.
Also love the way you protrayed the hawk’s “lunch.” Hey, nature is cruel, but at least the hawk doesn’t wait for the meat to be served in a restaurant or purchased under plastic covers, right? Thanks, Amy
http://sharplittlepencil.com/2013/03/03/blessed-blue/
March 4th, 2013 at 2:27 pm
amazing and so so vivid love it , Chris http://velvetmedia.wordpress.com/
March 10th, 2013 at 4:51 am
oh heck…you did an awesome job with the personification here…searching
for thermals to
ease my journey… don’t we all in a way…?