Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
Where I sat on the crumbling brick wall
the pigeon fell,
gasping its last two breaths in my lap
while our eyes introduced our souls.
When I looked to heavens above,
there was only sky, cobalt blue.
What were the chances?
I know what it is to fall from grace -
That rocket-shot tumble
facilitated by your own dead weight
thundering the surface identity into
a direct collision course with
the very foundation of Life.
The impact is the point.
So many times, I’ve missed it.
It took a poisoned pigeon
to teach me this:
“Rest your weary wings
and unfold your heart
on the way down.”
It’s the only way
to land with Grace.
© 2011-2013/Jamie K. ReaserPublished in "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life" and "Wild Life: New and Selected Poems" (www.hiraethpress.com)