Medicine Bird
Echoes
The art and the experience of poetry—the seeming contradictions that aren’t contradictions, but the blending of consciousness with an identity that witnesses but does not exist. Muse is self-recognition canceling out the self, leaving the traces of disappearance as echoes beyond hearing.
There you were…
riding the air currents
capturing the sun
on your underbody of yellow iridescence,
medicine wheel on each wing
giving a measure of my life to be.
You a Silent One
diviner of a future bequeathed
by my own imagination
You, prophesier of a new and wondrous cycle,
hanging on a trapeze of air,
you speak to my heavy mood
and fill me with the promise
of dreams born into reality.
Suspended above
split hair beyond my reach,
hovering on foils of feathered majesty,
you pierce the veil of time
open my vision
to the grandeur to come.
– Shades of Light, © Carl Hitchens 2013
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