Like a Splinter of Light

Lessons from the birds

Like a splinter of light, sliced from the heavens, the flock shot down from the sky, then turned, all together, to the sea.

In the eternal scape of that one breathless moment, their silhouettes took shape, their forms stolen from the shadows and filled in by the breath of the wind.

They tipped to the right, white flashing through their wings.

They dip to the left. And now ebony sings.

As one organism, they fly low.

How do they know where to go?

Or how to turn just so when the flow of the flock changes direction?

Their movements are so quick. They remind me of a school of fish, undulating through a beam of sunlight beneath the sea, their scales gleaming with a translucence which can only truly be seen when you are amongst them.

I’d like to be with the birds, gliding over the silvered stream of sun on water, screaming with joy for nature.

I’d like to taste the salty air and not have a care for anything beyond this moment.

I’d like to roam the skies, gliding with the breeze, integrated completely with my brethren, and with the deep-seated certainty of forever reaching forward in time, knowing that we are all connected, that this moment is not just mine.

For our trajectories intersect, projecting onto one another’s.

But it seems to me, that we’ve forgotten this truth, and we’ve come to believe that this earth is ours alone.

Now, they are moving beyond me, flapping into eternity, into the sun.

And, I wonder if they can outrun the damage we humans have done.

But for now, I will take a lesson from the birds and will turn my focus within.

It’s funny how much you can see in a moment.

How the shiver of their wings against the pale blue sky can make me want to cry in ecstacy…

How their synchronous flight touches a deep-seated memory of harmony…

How I can know with a certainty that the throb of the universe, flowing through them, also dances inside of me….

This poem came to me in a flash. I was in a car, being driven alongside the water’s edge, on the way to the Oakland ̄Airport. In one of those moments, in the midst of a conversation, the world just sort of fell away when I saw that flock of birds diving down from above, their silhouettes shifting into solid form as they changed their trajectory to fly alongside us, parallel with the water. It was probably just a second or two before they outpaced us. But, I felt almost as if I was one of them, as if I could fly along with them, into one of those moments beyond time.

I believe that to truly understand a poem, it needs to be heard. To hear the rhythm, the cadence, the emphasis, please listen to my recording of “Like a Splinter of Light.”

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Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).

Photo and poem ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.