Grief and The Duskywing: An Invitation to Ground

First State National Historic Park

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Duskywing,

I saw you

before the descent,

The beautiful aliveness

your dark wings

pearled droplets of clarity

a moment of pause

in each direction

You were

unconcerned with me

As I saw you

Is it an error

That I wrote "saw" as "was"?

As in

before

it all began

The descent

forest

memory

I can still feel the pull

downwards

widespread wings

pressing on my gut

as if

"shushing"

what rides beneath the breath

into redirection

gentle companion

to the pictures in my mind

She danced with the swallowtail

at the creek side

fluttering circles around me

only one

She was there

I felt her

take my hand like when we were kids

her laughter in the sunlight and shadow

Abhaya Mudra

in the tree

To touch the earth

gravity

a prayer of many moving pictures

her life

through my palm

then to look above

at just one

withered, enduring form

what she couldn't finish with me,

she left for me, Fearlessness

This trail

through nests of vultures

and winding streams

and sun dappled canopy

It started sunny

even, spry

on a promise to walk with her

Now dragging me through a lifetime

we both tried to forget

Whoever said "sticks and stones"

Never met the lies sometimes mothers tell their daughters

Sour bones rotting in our ears

my ears

because yours are no longer

just the wind carrying the deep bellow of her home

her voice

into mine

and pressing down, into the earth

This laboring grief

It does not dance in the sunlight with your spirit

It calls to the earth

to contain it

to hold the horror of suffering

The patterns, and grain, and moisture of our tears

my guts pouring into the earth

marrow, matter, darkness and dense

absorbing all that is too heavy to take

with her

My sister, my sister

I cannot look away, so I look up

The orchard orb weaver

architect of invisible frameworks

looking down

illuminated momentarily

by a shift in perspective

a play of light

a gentle nudge perhaps?

The world seems so alive, but she's not in it

Did she drop down like the weaver?

Like the deep groan that pulls me to the ground and into myself

Into prayer

and out of the rage

out of the sting of survival

we knew so well

into receiving

what she never wanted to let go of

Beauty and Life

The strength to endure what she didn't think others would accept

Oh Duskywing

you resurrect the memories of my mind only to bury my tears in your clover

To start a new

older now

along the path

filled with the colors of your wings

in my belly

and I see "me" again

a child left standing alone

so I take her in my arms

and we walk home