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....
