Tuesday, April 8, 2014

In Praise of The Vulture

I see the big shadow swoosh over top me and onto the ground below
and hear the power of the wings flap with great and unending power
I turn my head with excitement to see the large black body fly over head
I want to see the bold white head and tail feathers flash in the sunlight

It is not the Eagle
He is not the special one
He is despised
His bald red wrinkled head
is unseemly
as though carved from the
very rotten flesh which he
is always feasting

He rises up and my eyes follow
He joins in a circle with seven brethren
And spin in celebration

If these were Eagles
I would fall to my knees
and cry

I hear the Voice
I can't tell you where it comes from
but it told me this

Who are you to judge the Vulture
and how he is spreading across Mother Earth
like never before
Eating up all the death Man creates

Then I saw my brothers
for what they are
and what they do

So then I smiled and said my thanks
and hoped for something new

And if one day
it becomes that way
that I get to return to
this Mother Earth

I would be proud to serve
with all of my friends
as one who cleans up
after all of our sins