Posts Tagged ‘egret’

Feathery Hope

Tuesday, January 16th, 2018

A fragile and feathery hope grows in my chest
It tickles my ribcage and brushes against my cheeks
Like the kiss of a bird’s wing as it takes flight.
The moment suspended
Between the weight of the world
And the unburdened sky.

Small and tender hearted
This alien thing grows inside of me.
At night I feed it quietly with whispered dreams
And words I am too afraid to say aloud.
I do not yet know whether it will become
Friend or foe to me as it grows.

My mind crushes it slowly with sharp edges
Predicted in the cloudy sphere
Of crystal balls and etched lines in overworked palms.
But still at night, when the lights have disappeared
It is just me and the nascent hope
Evolving to be something more than me.

I refuse to let it die but only acknowledge it
In moments of secrecy stolen between
Sorrow and high-soaring ecstasy.
If I look it in the eye and declare its name
It may just consume me whole
Before I know how to control the chaos it brings.

I know I have been unfair to you
Born of such happiness and light
But forced to be a creature of darkest night;
I made you into this monster
Out of the fear that if I held you too tight
You would disappear faster than a bird taking flight.

Now you are with me forever
Etched into every bone
Like the words of a love letter
That never found a heart to call home.
This ribcage you once inhabited
Transformed into a cage you will never escape.

I feel you waking up again
Testing the limits of your confines
With a wingspan broader than the horizon.
I hear you tapping against my bones
A morse code warning of all we could be
Or a threat that soon you may break free.

My chest creaks under the pressure of your presence
Small yet persistent, this fragile thing
Begins to break through my bones
Like a flower growing through the cracks in the pavement
Yearning for the sun’s light and fresh air.
I can contain you no longer.

Will this creature be beautiful or broken?
Maybe it will be a bit of both.
Heavy with my whispered dreams and secret hopes
Will it be able to take flight?
My fragile and feathery hope takes wing
Leaving me behind to wonder at our small destiny.

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Posted in Photos, Poetry |

Egret Eyes

Sunday, March 3rd, 2013

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My mind is full of egret eyes.
Swiveling movement like the weight
At the end of a fishing line,
Pulling the hook serrated and sharp
Into the darkest parts of the sea
That only fish with grey translucent eyes
Can see with something more than sight
That illuminates the darkest parts of this world.

I feel disturbed like the jellied eye
Of a fish left too long in the sun;
Poked by innocent hands seeking fun.
My mind is pierced by shrieks of delight
As children run away, cringing in fright;
A game played by children in a twilight too dark
To be anything else but night.

Plucked from the sea by the dagger
Of a spear fishing egret
Perched atop a craggy rock out at sea,
The open mouthed, lipless screams
Of a fish out of water takes on new meaning.

My mind is full of egret eyes.
Preying with the majestic form of a killer,
Guised in beauty and lithe gossamer gowns
Of a white so pure it can only be called snowy.
But the bones buried beneath the snow
Remain unseen, hidden by layer and layer of white
So pure it can almost conceal the death in your eye
That pivots like a ballerina’s pirouette.

The bird opens wide its wings.
Wings of feathery white willing a skyward escape
Like a shot in the dark and a bullet left in a tree trunk
Because the wood won’t feel the burn, Right?
Just as a wriggling earthworm doesn’t feel the pierce
Of a hook dissecting its body into perfect segments
Like it was meant to be split by the greedy hands of men.
Did the fish see the pain as the worm was plunged
Into the depths of an element it didn’t understand?

These murky waters mean nothing to the eyes of a predator
As the egret dips its streamlined head into the water
Pulling forth its sacrifice of sea life.
The egret pushes itself from the rock in the middle of the sea
To return to its native country of sky clad creatures.
Bringing with it an unwilling victim of circumstance
Caught in the clutches of death, even the victim had to smile;
It was on this day, a fish learned to fly.

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Posted in Poetry |