high

to pray you open to your whole self

to sky, to earth, to sun, to moon

to one whole voice that is you.

and know there is more 

that you can't see, can't hear.

can't know except in moments

steadily growing, and in languages

that aren't always sound but other 

circles of motion.

like eagle that sunday morning

over salt river. circled in blue sky

in wind, swept our hearts clean 

with sacred wings.

we see you, see ourselves and know

that we must take the utmost care

and kindness in all things.

breathe in, knowing we are made of 

all this and breathe, knowing

we are truly blessed because we

were born, and die soon within a

true circle of motion.

like eagle rounding out the morning

inside us.

we pray it will be done 

in beauty.

in beauty.

                    ~ eagle poem

                            joy harjo

it is hot..hot like bangalore, like cairo

i have taken up roost in a red plastic chair

these last few days

with my spy glasses, used for viewing great distances ..

in any shade i can find..

watching, surveying, witnessing the eagle nest

chaliced in a faraway tree ..

leaping greenly spirit branches keep me guessing ~

is it a bird? a plane? a superhero?

and yes, indeed it is..

an eaglet..fledging..

the hero of my morning look outs

hopping in the depth of the eyrie to its very edge, 

expanding the span of great wing,

fluttering flaps of fantabulous faith

lifting ever so and springing to a nearby branch..

o imagine

what courage and gallantry to rest on the verge

of upward mobility and downward dive..

then

back to the nest

and 

stillness

and 

rest 

gathering the cliff notes 

for flight

for fly again for the first time

breathless..

not able to lower my specs

awed

and so strangely melancholy 

and so strangely exuberant 

and say out loud  

to myself 

to those deep listeners..

we must be our best selves always..

we must be 

nothing small 

or narrow 

or  low....