As I was nearing the corner, in slow motion, I saw dark grey feathers floating, seeming to flow up from the ground and I watched them and noticed the shades of black and white combined to add shape to each feather as they moved up and down from the sunlit walkway.
My eyes moved to the blacktop beyond the light and about a quarter away from the next curb I saw her, a bird, a pigeon, a dove, dark blue-grey and we met eye to eye as her bright red blood left the slit in her neck draining in beat with her heart.
And I stood there motionless and emotive, overcome with awe, pain, delight, fear and compassion.
In my mind, my hands caressed her and my lips touched her becoming scarlet stained and she spoke to me, saying thank you as we parted ways and she flew to the heavens, healed.
In that moment of dreaming, an eagle flapped and touched my shoulder, wing to arm, and she was gone, a perfect circle of blood, the only proof of her existence.
Captive now, I cried for her as she hung from the beak of the almighty, perched high on Morris Street, his kingdom, claiming his victim won.
With no hint of fear, he swooped down between us, between locked eyes and in between two beating hearts, both stricken, one bleeding, and snatched, claimed, what was already his, marked by a precision slice through the neck of cotton feathers.
My own heart pumped.
I tasted blood in my throat, knowing that I could not save her, that it was not my place or even my right to save, but only to observe and to be reminded of this cycle and to recognize myself in both the dove and the eagle, the faithful and the fated, the mother and the father, the victim and the conqueror, the winner and the loser.
In those moments, like days, I experienced the depth of feeling in each counterpart.
The eagle stood there triumphant, standing above the world, seeing it all, pinpointing his prey and now holding it as a trophy for all who were, are, able, to see.
And that eagle spoke to me saying take what’s yours, claim it, own it, and be proud.
This blood sacrifice is for you, for me, for mother earth and father sky.
You are part of the cycle, indivisible from me, this dove, this tree, this dripping blood.
We are one.
My power is your power; my weakness is your weakness.
We grow with and from and for each other.
I am forever yours and you mine.
Know who you are. Let the world know who you are. It is time.