LIKE THE EAGLE WHEN HE FLIES
Word Count: 302
It was only a hawk in the sky, sharp-eyed and claw-ready for hunting. A predator; no, that couldn’t be you, I thought. But then I do remember that you said once you would come back as an eagle.
The deer nibbled its way across the lawn, just within the shadows of the trees, an ear flicking to the wind, to the sound of anything that would present danger. It looked up and saw me. I sent waves of love through the distance between us. I reached out my hand and it ran, tail flying white against the dark woods.
Not a rabbit, not a crow, no these you wouldn’t be. Please, please, don’t come back to me as the raccoon that goes through the garbage at night, or the robin that just hops around pulling out worms from the ground and swallows them whole. I don’t think I could accept that; no, I couldn’t. I’d rather you were a wisp of breeze, a scent of musk, a dust speck of ash returned on the wind.
Then one day out in the garden, watering the zinnias, the beans and tomatoes, you catch my attention. Flying straight from the brook to the river, a large trout wriggling in your talons, wings flapping now and then, now and then, just to keep you aloft with your lunch.
That night I dreamt of you as the eagle, your new form sleek and commanding. You hovered above me, ready to pounce. I felt your claws digging in. The beautiful pain of my skin rending open, my heart cupped in your talons, my blood warm and flowing.
I awoke just as once more, you flew away from me, far and farther until you were again gone. I awoke to the pain of knowing I was alone.
