Egret struck my chest with her corn-yellow spearbeak and blinding white feathers.
The wound was made at low tide as she plucked a dancer’s path along the shore.
It’s deep,
her cut laying bare the chambers of my heart where beauty used to live.
I take flight.
opening as my wings unfold,
spindly legs streaming behind me.
I don’t belong to the ground anymore
I am part of the rakish fullness of the world as life defies the hardship of frost.
My body remembers to allow winds lifting hands to carry me,
giving me this way to be free again.
Surrender.
Surrender to the winged fisher I have become,
her patience,
her peace.
Returning to land I’ll dance beside her,
at the edge of the water,
looking for a meal,
discovering beauty,
becoming a prayer
with her.
Egret struck my chest and made a wound to heal me.
