The first poem of the year
Loneliness
is the keening tundra swan
lost on migration
with a broken
wing… Just the creak
of snow over snow and sadness,
no wind
singing through her feathers.
Will you be the Healer
by just being present, listening
to the redness
of her heart a few more
minutes?
The secret is, heart and wings are mended
by love,
just enough love to give her
back
to the flowering sky-path
of her own ways,
heart, wings and song.
J. Pratt-Walter, (c) 1/1/2018
