Dialogues with Animals

“I have to trust what was given to me if I am to trust anything.” Gift. S.W. Merwin.

Buzzards

I have the world in my ear,

centuries of gaze.

When I look you in the eye,

I am searching for your ancestors.

I am talking to mine.

I owe my explanations only to the unbound winds,

the giving ebbs.

To Earth who bares without judgement

to the ever-present- shadow behind the moon

when it brings the graces of Poiesis to the doors,

to Sirius, the dog star…

You are not following,

-All personal time diminishes-

so I ask,

who are you to place me,

to judge me,

make me known or unknown.

I am the owner of my words.

The wielder of their combustion

when by the tip of my fingers am pushed out of their womb.

You cannot change me,

I am the mother of the buzzards that come in the night,

only I can turn them into hummingbirds.

I cannot not give you my ear, silent bird,

lacking a syrinx*,

you are incapable of song.

©lidice megla, Nanaimo, 2018. (After the publication of Tú la Bestia)

*syrinx: (from Greek for pan pipes) Vocal organ of birds.

La Guardiana del huevo negro. Leonor Finni