The First Song

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Small Bird,

you carry my message 

to the spirit world

on your feathery wings.

You embody my longing

for freedom, for flight,

for Seeing Below

and Rising Above.

Your song sings

in my heart,

of hope and sunshine,

 trees and Beauty.

Long ago,

Bird Woman,

dressed in skins and pelts,

sat by the fire,

looking up at the stars,

feeling a longing she

had not language for.

Beside her, her wolf-pup

raised his muzzle to the sky,

howling mournfully.

She began to thump,

hand against knee,

the beat growing

in rhythm and intensity,

until she, too,

tilted her head far back,

making guttural, keening sounds

in her throat,

that had no interpretation,

but described her longing

perfectly.

The first song.

A revised and expanded version of a poem from 2014, for Stacie's prompt at Real Toads: Voices, Spaces and Songbirds