We are fascinated by what we are:
fossils and butterflies, seeing ourselves,
in the bodies of animals
and the slow curves of stones.

If we love a tree, we love the latent strength
of rooted limbs and course skin.
If we love a cat, we love our wild indifference.
If we love each other, we love love,
and weep for our broken selves.

If I have feathers, then they were yours to give,
and my arms were made as wings.


2 thoughts on “Feathers

  1. It always amazes me how we are led to what we were looking for before we even know we should be looking for it. This poem was exactly that for me. Your photographs stopped me but it is your words that have moved me to action. I have been contemplating a new writing project, one that will attempt to explore and relay the complexity of the human / animal relationship. It is still just ideas flitting through my head when I should be working on my current writing project. This afternoon I said, hell with it, I’m giving myself permission to spend a little time thinking about it. And I find your poem. An affirmation from the Universe. You were the messenger! Thank you.

    • That’s right. To hell with it. Write anything. Write everything. Write. We need these respites from the big projects. It helps fuel them. Thanks for stopping by Shelley. Now YOU have inspired ME!

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