New Poem

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There is a hawk that lives in a tree by my house. It is a frequent visitor. I see this as pure magic. This poem is inspired by my hawk-friend.

We rise

over and over again

our wings take flight

we soar

our feathers

woven in wisdom

our wings carry echoes

of how we have left our other self  in pieces to rest

how we have lifted our heavy wings

to light.

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