In the stumble
he found his way
down
down into the dirt
his hands
breathing in the
earth’s vibration
his heart melting
with the wayward
bits of snow
His mama knew
his soul to be of heaven
His father sought to
create a tough soldier of life
Caught in a ricocheting
dichotomy
he searched for who he is
in corners in bars
in women in men
in drugs in empty rooms
And now at 28
he’s hiking up a
ragged mountain trail
searching for a cliff
that will set him free
to the heaven of his mother
or to the hell of his father
Standing at the edge
the vastness of the
valley below beckons
beckons
but
one rock
a billion years in the making
tangles his boots and
down he goes to his knees
as if in prayer
Crouched at cliff’s edge
the piercing cry of
a wild bald eagle
washes over him
and opens his jagged wounds
and he lets them bleed
bleed
bleed
into the earth
into the valley
into the winding river far below
Some say he was reborn
Others miss the crazy wildness
he once boasted
but if you look really closely
you can see the
strong eagle spirit living within him
and know
that at last all is well
StoryGirl 