Eagle Blessing
We are never told ‘when’ the eagle will
touch us nor the way in which the feathers
will enfold all of our lives
We are never told of the softness
and the sounds of the brushing away
of all that is accumulated over the trails
We are never told ‘when’ the smile of an elder
will come to be the reason a day unfolds
near the fire and clasping our ‘ways’
hands to hands as in the sign of friendship
We are never told ‘when’ the sage , shell , and smoke
will bring all of the decades to pass
in the silence of standing ‘still’
and dreaming of the fire and the oaks
and the deer and the elk
and the bear
There is ‘no time’ now
just the soft moccasin step
back and forth
in the snows and near the edges of cedars
‘No time’ in the way the boulders still hold
the leaning trees and leaves of ice
We are never told ‘when’ we will be in life
as fully as when the last aspen of autumn
sings to her cove and the fox appears
again
© Judith Ann Henry
Introducing herself, this poet (Judith Ann Henry) says:
“I live in the Southwestern US and have written poetry of/for/and with this area for the last 25 years. I also have worked with Native communities during these years and am Choctaw for my father's clans and Hungarian for my mother's side.
Blessings from all of the directions, as we say here.”
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