Transition
I walk out to my driveway
on a routine chore,
find to my amazement
a glorious, noble raptor.
I decide it has just died.
It is perfect.
I am stunned by its dark head,
striped gray and black feathers,
white breast, and yellow legs.
Even in death it looks
powerful, intelligent, alert.
As a city girl, it's hard to
organize a funeral for such
a magnificent creature, alone.
I gently place it in a wooded area
from my shovel, pick up one
mesmerizing tail feather.
I have mixed emotions:
it is scary and intense.
The universe chose me
to be with this bird
during its journey
to the spirit world,
where it can again soar free.
About the Author: Elsa Lichman, from Massachusetts, is a contributor to the
journal as well a a columnist for the Waltham News Tribune and the
Natural Living Journal. She is a retired social worker who has turned to
the arts in retirement and during the covid era: writing, singing, and
drawing, as well as utilizing meditation, to gain perspective and heal.
Oct 13th 2020
