Perched upon your wrist
a kestrel in all its wild magnificence
the gaze
always alert
it is we who are tamed
awed by its power
it is simply itself
and nothing else
so essentially elemental.
It’s flight
is our astonishment
as if it were
a living metaphor
its beauty
an alchemy
of mind & time
together
transformed
into what can not be imagined
only hinted at...
The talons
clutching at
your offered wrist
(Death the music of little bells)
yet content to eat
dead mice from the tips of your fingertips.
Your heart
this bird
something I could never own
untamed by love
I can only watch
the beauty of its flight
and be amazed that it is
to me that it returns
wild & free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow...what amazing understanding and awareness. Love the Hopkins allusion to THE WINDHOVER but the poem itself is astonishing and' I can only watch the beauty of its flight' in words. What you talk about is fascinating and so is how you talk about it and so is why you talk about it. The poem keeps returning to me...'wild and free! ! I am awed by your power. Now this is a love poem that flies beyond the usual treatment and takes it with us. Is there another such poem by you on the same theme...seem to recall something similiar and you do have the habit of revisting certain themes through slightly different viewpoints. GinaXX