Hawks by Lynn UnGar
Surely, you too have longed for this --
to pour yourself out
on the rising circles of the air
to ride, unthinking,
on the flesh of emptiness.
Can you claim, in your civilized life,
that you have never leaned toward
the headlong dive, the snap of bones,
the chance to be so terrible,
so free from evil, beyond choice?
The air that they are riding
is the same breath as your own.
How could you not remember?
That same swift stillness binds
your cells in balance, rushes
through the pulsing circles of your blood.
Each breath proclaims it --
the flash of feathers, the chance to rest
on such a muscled quietness,
to be in that fierce presence,
wholly wind, wholly wild.
(C) Lynn Ungar
The poet longs to enter a hawk, to feel into that raptor’s body. What creature calls you to wildness?
Having chosen a creature to focus on, write your own poem about how this being is calling you to wildness. What about it, its fur? Its sinew? It's ability to inhabit certain terrain? Begin with the words, “I long for this…”
Make this animal your familiar or talisman for the year. What can you learn about your own wild life from this amazing creature. What do they mirror in you? What is it you’re reaching for?
