One Falcon Feather
Pain had damaged her wings
in her seemingly endless struggles
beating them against the valley walls,
then, in the last days she made haste
and climbed to the mountain’s summit
and flew free.
At first I could not see
that the sun and the moon
were shining on that verdant floor
where she lay still
till her soul opened its wings and ascended to live
far above the clouds.
That bird of her soul encompassed the earth
casting no shadows
in all the six directions, and as I watched her ascent
one falcon feather like a sycamore seed
spiralled down and became entangled
in my hair.
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