Soul Wings (two poems by Sulis)

 

 

These two poems were written as I struggled with a frightening situation, and my own practiced denial in dealing with it.  I kept it hidden as much as possible and, through my poems, managed to escape on the wings of birds.  Though not for long.
 
The bluebird is Missouri's State bird.  It is precious to me also because, soon after I moved to the Ozarks, my godfather ('uncle bull') sent me a watercolor he had made of one.  The morning I received news that he had died in spring 2008, a bluebird came to visit me in my new forest home.

Birds can be messengers for us when they come in dream-life or in day-life.  I have experienced both.  Now I am learning to listen to them more carefully. The day I decided to post these, a Cooper's hawk perched very close to where I was working in the forest clearing logs.  He gave me courage.

Bluebird

The morning after
He threatened to kill me
There was a blue bird
He couldn't hear it at first

But I heard it falling
A long metallic scream as it
Slipped downwards
I knew no way to save her

All day she tried
Trapped in the stove pipe
Attracted to ashes
Lost  in a well of darkness

Fire burns in him
And birds have fallen before
Nothing he intended
Yearning for that brightness

All day I listened
To her pain sounding like mine
Then my cat saw her
Silent behind the glass darkly

Somehow she had
Slipped through a tiny crack
An impossible feat
She did it or the gods did it

I reached in for her
Took her gently to the door
Not black but blue
She flew out over the water

Later I understood
That she was my soul-wings
Blue bird of the air
Bringing life to fire's flame

Blue cool and free
She was an illusion of water
Flowing upwards
And he had mistaken her

For a safe passage
Channeling smoke to the sky
Not understanding
That she was born in the wind 

 

 

 

 

  Hagalaz

 
A full moon shone
on new snow
the morning after
Hagalaz
white and cold
as prayer ties;
the air sharp
as sage smoke
dressed in the robes
of renunciation.

He said I looked
blank as death
I told him I was
just afraid;
but his fear
was much greater
bamboo cracked
over bamboo
shards scattered
like paper dreams.

 

After a while
he stopped wanting
to kill himself
and I could sleep;
though my bed
called in lightening
and the moon was
smothered
caught in the web
of Nauthiz.

Now the pure
peace of Wunjo
heaven's breath
glows on the water;
I could hold up
my closed hand
and release the dove
in my chest
let her fly out of
the shadows of winter.