From my play book – Where do all the birds go on Halloween?

JournalRedRaven

Being

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.

One day
I throw away all my love letters
without noticing. Mountains

in the heart.
What belongs
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!

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s