POETRY
The Weighted Heron
Meditations on Fear 4 • the trance of ignorance
I am Heron Hunched in river sludge As the tide runs out My claws cling to mud My wings are locked Against my body
As if It was natural To stay here
As if There was no way for me To open Fold by fold And stretch out Into the span of myself
As if There was no way To move these fanned wings To feel the shocking sweep Of air under me And rise…
Instead, I stand Squinting at the tatters Of my own reflection
I am trapped Deep in the sleep Of my forgetting The trance has become My master
This is poem 4 in a series of 5 about fear. Each one can be read on its own or as part of the series. If you like, you can see the series here (with the link updated as each piece is published). Thank you for reading!
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A shout-out to Tre L. Loadholt for this amazing haiku… I’d always associated traditional haiku form with nature & stillness, but Tre shows what can be done in the realm of the political & the active. This is a poem I keep returning to….
