Friday, September 12, 2025

Black feather circle

I dreamt of a pile of black feathers

circling a few gnawed bones,

one lone foot.


I’ve seen this before.

In ’62. Backyard lawn after dawn,

everything else was gone,


carried off in the mouthes

and bellies of the raccoons

who ate my pet crow.


Why does that vision

return now, in a dream?

Even fragments rarely last


for more than a few seconds

after waking and then falling

back into orphic meandering.


I knew of death at the time,

I was nine, but this was

my introduction to deep grief.


News of a friend’s death

reached me this week,

I don’t know which came first,


the dream or the message.

Doesn’t matter, I embrace

mystery wherever it emerges


from the shadows. Carved into the wall

of an ancient ruin. In a cloud or a tree,

or even a random social media post.


Grief and sorrow sit like a cyst that

resists the body’s efforts to absorb it.

Waiting patiently to break up


the everyday, every night cycles

of every year’s yesterday’s happy

memories and tomorrow’s promises.


Still there, like an old acquaintance.

Not a friend, but it remains just a cyst

not a tumor.

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