Weightless

he heard the warbling whispers descend,
flapping their bristly wings,
like the hungry old pigeons of Trafalgar square,
their greedy beaks shining,
scrounging for a sight of her;

see how her body soars,
disconnected from her soul, they said,
like the shadow of a gliding hawk,
frightening the rose buds at noon;
it is her mind, like a thought bubble,
hovering over its prey,
tethered to her face by a skein of angled lies;
the murmurs fluttered behind him
like hummingbirds in retreat,
listen to her voice when she deigns to reply,
words emerging from perforated pauses,
like ravens lifting one by one
into the painted twilight;

he saw in her eyes
the emptiness of the pre-dawn sky,
the melding of orange and black and gold,
a freshly starched morning,
with clouds like rounded ice cubes
in embroidered pillow cases,
and tumbling down through the stirring truth,
a solitary silver-blue feather,
in its pearl dusted wake,
the ancient song
of a wounded Himalayan monal
crying in the snow;

can’t you hear, they screamed,
her hyphenated silence
roosting between the reaper’s empty nests;
gashes from sharpened talons,
sewn by insomniac bats,
with tarred new moon beams;

he watched the feather hesitate,
for just one endless moment,
as the universe made up its mind,
as the wind slowly let it go,
and it fell weightless,
sighing,
into his open hands.

For the Poets United midweek prompt “Birds”, inspired by the Blue Feather in Richard Bach’s “Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah”.
Every person, all the events of your life are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.
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26 thoughts on “Weightless

  1. Isn’t it magical watching a feather fall..in the hands of the gods..a beautiful meditation on birds..I’ve only read Jonathan Livingston Seagull – the blue feather intrigues me as does ‘frightening the rose buds at noon’ – one of many powerful images in this poem

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  2. I loved all of Richard Bach’s books back in the day, especially Illusions and A Bridge Across Forever…love that blue feather……I enjoyed all of the beautiful bird images in this poem, and especially loved the lines “a wounded Himalayan monal crying in the snow” – such vivid imagery!

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    1. Thanks Sherry.. I recently read Illusions again when I bought it as a gift for a young lad and realised the blue feather image had stayed with me through the years.

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  3. he watched the feather hesitate,
    for just one endless moment,
    as the universe made up its mind

    I literally held my breath through these lines. Beautiful work here 🙂

    Lots of love,
    Sanaa

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  4. Wow! I have got to go back to Bach if he can inspire such a beautiful weightlessness. I wonder which has more weight, the feather or the dying soul? I love this, though I may not have understood it at all:
    “it is her mind, like a thought bubble,
    hovering over its prey,
    tethered to her face by a skein of angled lies;”
    I felt on the edge of life and death in this poem, and had to let out a held breath by the end.

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  5. Love all the bird imagery you’ve used here for this fabulous poem Rajani, specially “a skein of angled lies;”. Both the characters created here seemed to be caught in between dream and reality. Thank you for gifting such a Beauty for the prompt.

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  6. There is a lot to ponder here, the weight of thoughts can be heavy or light. This is my favorite part.

    a solitary silver-blue feather,
    in its pearl dusted wake,
    the ancient song

    A really lovely poem – I think it is one you need to read a couple of times to digest the beauty of the words.

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  7. luv the falling feather, luv all your exciting imagery; my favourites lines are
    “a freshly starched morning,
    with clouds like rounded ice cubes
    in embroidered pillow cases,”

    much love…

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  8. “….ravens lifting one by one
    into the painted twilight;..” This is my fave piece!! You created some high resolution images through your powerful words !! 🙂

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