From my play book – Where do all the birds go on Halloween?
A letter is holy. A story
is holy hands reaching out into the world.
Birds come home
across distance I can’t conceive
and live in their bodies.
Ash in the air. Every place I’ve been
is on fire with words.
I throw away all my love letters
without noticing. Mountains
in the heart.
to me? I leave the world
all the time. These arms, these
fingers, this tongue, these feet,
and their bent wings. I know
it will be dirt, the prayers
now in marrow will retake
earth. I will live inside whatever flies
Burning, the brink of all things.
by Eireann Lorsung from Music For Landing Planes By: poems
It’s cooler today and lots of birds are calling back and forth to each other just outside. On days like this I hear a line of a poem in my head over and over. “I will live inside whatever flies.” Meanwhile my red raven appears in the night. Happy Halloween! Don’t let the goblins get you tomorrow!