Upon dying, breathes a sound few have been privileged to hear.
I have heard that sound. ~ Rumi
Why is this one hawk circling
in the sky overhead?
The love seat has been set
on this cathedral lawn.
Coppertone fur spreads over
a pillow mixed in perfect clay colors,
it lays open to rest where
we gather last in the church window,
the earth becomes your invitation.
One touch - a passage
comes in a single breath;
a Spirit opens up to the mystery;
imagination swallows your delight.
The hawk is carving a hole in the sky
a window opens to freedom –
in a boundless body
swirled into a wind
of confinement gone.
I have seen that hole.
I have heard that sound.
© Nublin’s Pub, 2009
Author notes
He lies in regal state...
A contest entry
- subtleties of love by Cat.
3500 points, ended May 30, 4 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Your opening line caused a snapshot that jogged my memory. Last summer when several of my AP sisters and me unearthed certain truths of a former member, who is probably still on this site with a new screen name... not one of our better stories. Anyway... the morning after there was a great white "hawk circling in the sky overhead?" That's right, directly over my house. It stayed for hours. At first it had me worried, excited... Then I shouted into the air; "be gone..." and named the huge fowl. I went inside, and looked out the window a few moments later. The bird understood.
I love a poem that takes me so far into my subconscious after only reading the very first line.
To end your writ with that same winged creature "carving a hole in the sky" made my heart skip its rhythm. SUPERB!
CONGRATULATIONS ON BEING AWARDED A WELL DESERVED GOLD CHALICE!
Much Love & Respect ♥
Renee
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this is simply excellent-
the hawk carving a hole in the sky is one of those images which has remained with me..
that is a rarity.. reserved usually for
better known poets whom i enjoy. ..
excellent
m
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"the earth becomes your invitation."
This is now my very favorite poem by you, Ed. What incredible depths, what immaculate scope lies within these wild words. When I went back to Kansas in 1983 to see my father for the last time, there were 67 hawks right beside the highway, on overhanging branches & billboards. On the way back, there were 73. I'd never seen so many, let alone in such a small circumference of space...about 200 miles from my home to his. I came to the conclusion that they were sentinels...not of doom, but of freedom & flight. This is powerful, poignant, profound & completely gorgeous writing, my Friend. Sheer f'n brilliance, indeed. Good luck in Mary's contest, Sweetie. 
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I can't believe I'm the first to comment on this, though my comments are usually inadequate. I just know when I like something. I read this more than twice, and loved it more each time. What a great entry to Cat's contest.
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