Eagle Feather Fan Poem by Navarre Scott Momaday
Eagle Feather Fan
The eagle is my power,
And my fan is an eagle.
It is strong and beautiful
In my hand. And it is real.
My fingers hold upon it
As if the beaded handle
Were the twist of bristlecone.
The bones of my hand are fine
And hollow; the fan bears them.
My hand veers in the thin air
Of the summits. All morning
It scuds on the cold currents;
All afternoon it circles
To the singing, to the drums.
Eagle the heroic power into me the wings of the bird carry me upstairs to apex crown oh from the phoenix I rebirth to the rising sun it shines me as the dawn reciting holy scripture Eagle by the power I'm to the hero of heroes, to the God of gods flying, flying, crossing galaxy after galaxies to the great emptiness! !
My hand veers in the thin air Of the summits. All morning It scuds on the cold currents; All afternoon it circles To the singing, to the drums... a very fine poem. tony
Your poem emphasizes your strength with the symbolism of the eagle. Congratulations on POD.
Loop! ! Muse; To swoop like an eagle! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/9/2023 9:09:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Beautiful feeling of flight!