Treasure Island

Gerald Sedillo

(July 1,1988 / Santa Ana, California)

Bird of Prey


Her spirit rises; the dawn does fly
through unclear minds. Hawk overhead grasps
a white hare. I slip slowly above
her, looking as the fire bird, diving
into bliss, bliss uncertain as life.
Hawk's talons spirit away dim sight.

I willingly sacrifice my sight
for less pain and no more lonely flight.
Sole motivation, what will to live?
My soul fights the poison, the firm grasp
lessened by the hawk's heightened swift dive.
I dream, wishing for the clouds above.

Is there truth in those shapes up above?
Like the hawk, can I really trust sight?
With wings spread eagle, she weaves and dives
into fluffy pillows when she flies.
Cotton wisps teased with them in her grasp
for nothing but the great need to live.

My heart, on its flight, also wants life.
It yearns, like a chick, to go above
and experience, like seeds to grasp.
Keen hawk-cries from the sky grabs my sight
to azure skies. How is it she flies
so full of vigor in her steep dive?

Her feathers glisten over, diving
towards me, pulling back again. Life
brightens when she pulls close. First time's flight
gleaned by rhythmic motions from above.
Smiles, gasps, cries of the hawk in my sight
reminds me of the warmth of her grasp.

Overhead she circles, looks to grasp
something, anything, my arm? To me, dives
this spirit, freely spoken, inside
torn, outward majestic. She brings life
by the care she takes gliding above
to not hurt my soul, a pristine flight.

Her heart I wish to grasp softly. Life's
embrace and my inner dive above
gleans unknown sight. With her I fly.

Submitted: Monday, March 22, 2010
Edited: Tuesday, March 23, 2010

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