A Knowing Without Name
There is a knowing without name
that rises with the wind
I have seen it in the eagle’s wings,
in the silence held within
the sky it does not question.
It rises through the open air,
on vast and patient wings,
held aloft by unseen currents
that only freedom brings.
It does not beg the sky for place
the sky already knows;
it parts the wind with quiet strength
where only courage goes.
It rests upon the highest limb,
unbowed, serene, aware,
its bearing neither loud nor forced,
but sovereign in the air.
Its head is held in ancient pride,
not born of boast or claim,
but of a lineage carried deep
a knowing without name.
Its eyes reflect the endless blue,
yet see beyond the seen;
they hold the memory of the earth,
of all that’s been between.
It is the eagle
keeper of the heights,
a silent witness to the land,
to days and restless nights.
It gathers all beneath its wings
not out of need, but grace;
a guardian not by conquest,
but by presence and by place.
It shows the pride of those who stand
with roots both strong and true,
who walk the ground with steady steps
yet hold a higher view.
The eagle does not speak of pride
it lives it, breath by breath;
in every rise, in every fall,
in life, in change, in death.
It sees what many turn from still,
what few will dare to face
the quiet truth of who we are
when stripped of time and place…
a knowing without name.
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