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Feather Light Descending. Falling through clouds, feather light. Returning. There comes a time when we must stop, breathe, and open our eyes in wonder. Open our eyes to wonder. What the hell was that? Minerva shot upright as something thudded on the roof. Was there a storm? She listened intently as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She stumbled across the room to her window and peered through the blinds. The pavement below glistened in the streetlight. So it did rain, okay. Probably just lightning making thuddy noises then. No biggee, back to bed. A half hour passed and Minerva was still awake. She got up, annoyed, and walked down the hall to the living room. She flipped on the TV and then the goose-neck lamp by the window. An eye stared at her through the window. What the f----!? Minerva yelped, fumbling with the lamp and sending it flying to the floor. Shadows danced wildly. It was disorienting, and Minerva had to place a hand on the wall for a moment to steady herself. She reached down quickly and brought the lamp up to the window, hoping to take the peeping tom by surprise. Of course, by then it was too late. Nothing but the ambient glow of streetlights and a few leftover rain drops on the glass. Wait a minute. Minerva's apartment was on the fifth floor. There was no balcony. How could there have been an eye, let alone a face, let alone a person, out there? There wasn't even a ledge out there wide enough for a cat to creep on. Okay, maybe she had been seeing things. Yes, lamplight reflected through a raindrop. Not an eyeball. Sheesh, what a goof. Minerva thought about picking up a pair of drawstring blinds for the sliding glass doors, like those covering her bedroom window, to avoid instances like this. She chuckled at her foolishness and sprawled onto the couch. An old Heckle & Jeckle cartoon was on TV. A barely audible scratching came from the door. The hair on the back of Minerva's neck stood up. She muted the TV and sat quietly. If she didn't budge maybe she would somehow hear better. Yeah, right, like not using her body would enhance her hearing. What a goof! The scratching grew louder, more assured. Maybe it was the neighbor's cat? The door did open to outside stairs, after all. If it were a person out there the doorknob would rattle, or they would knock. Right? Minerva steeled herself and inched toward the door. She looked through the peephole, expecting to see nothing. A cat would be too low to see through the hole. She would open the door, pet the kitty, and feed it some leftover pepperoni toppings from last night's pizza. When it got light out she would go to the neighbor's apartment and return the cat, none the worse for wear. Instead, a large black orb blinked at her through the peephole. Frozen in place, Minerva stared as the orb backed away from the door and exposed itself as a black eye, half of a pair. It was a raven, but huge -- tall as a man, with humanoid arms and legs! The hands were like bird talons, as were the feet. Otherwise it was like the bird: the beak, black orb eyes, wings, and tail. Impossible, way impossible. Probably fell back to sleep watching Heckle & Jeckle, inspiring this. Okay, right. What to do? Minerva did have a penchant for dreams that held symbolic meaning. This sure seemed like one. Most significant journeys began with opening a door. Easy enough. Minerva undid the safety chain and slid back the bolt. She took a deep breath and opened the door. She half expected nothing to be there, but there the raven man stood. At least she thought it was a man; its anatomy was concealed in neat black feathers. The raven cocked his head awkwardly, even comically, and seemed to be as surprised by Minerva's appearance as she was by his. The raven remembered Minerva as an Egyptian princess and his sister-bride. The raven remembered Minerva as the soul of a lynx in a crippled vessel, and as his sister-in-spirit. The raven knew each lifetime they reconnected. As Minerva stared, there was something familiar to the soft depth in the raven's eyes. She felt as if her soul was swirling through stars and cloud dust of time, all by looking into those black orb eyes. She knew this raven, somehow. The raven knew her even now. The raven would always know her, no matter what her name or face. He reached out to gather her close. Minerva didn't resist, and surrendered to his embrace. She breathed in the velvety softness of his breast and knew this was home. She remembered, oh God how she remembered! Lifetimes of laughter, love, self-discovery, wonderment, and support And she relived each death in that hug, as well as each rebirth. The raven launched off of the stairwell, clutching Minerva tightly to him. His finger talons dug into her, drawing blood, but it didn't bother her. She knew she had felt it before, and it meant security. They glided through darkness, the city's glow muted through wisps of storm cloud. They ascended, clearing the cloud cover. They loop-de-looped in front of the yellow half moon. They laughed and held one another as one. The raven knew Minerva's world wasn't ready for him. The raven had met with her as destiny dictated, and they would meet again. He brought her back to the stairwell with a flapping of wings and an ungraceful thud. The raven reluctantly released his hold on Minerva. Minerva slowly backed up and smiled at the raven. She raised a hand to his feathered cheek. "See you next life." She softly kissed the side of his beak, and waved as he turned and flew off into the horizon. Minerva twirled a giant raven feather in her hand and sat on the stairwell, watching the sunrise. It hadn't been a dream after all. A few ravens flew by, cawing. Minerva couldn't help but smile. © Sarah Chamberlain 2003 |
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Cat As Cat Can Cat as cat can, Lynx as lynx is No more, no less. An inkblot dream, Kaliedescope thoughts Candy, coffee, and meat On the tongue. A heart, a drum, Chasing, and a dance A vision, and more... This is to be Lynx. © Sarah Chamberlain 2003 |
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Branwen I am given I am new My blood, salt, and water An offering of All of me White roses, Baby's Breath Crimson candle on the silver sun Silver chalice Crystal given blood, run through flame, Returned to water White Raven Moon Branwen's soft shoulder Mother, lover, friend Brushing against me softly From behind. © Sarah Chamberlain 2003 |
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Reemul Wisdom in a black eye, Black eye reflecting dreams, souls, And the breath of life and death. Wings soaring in darkness, A star in the night tapestry, Whispering of older things. © Sarah Chamberlain 2002 |
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The Silent Snow
I stand at the forest's edge, Wide paws balancing on the ledge. From whence I've come I do not know, The only answers seem in the silent snow. I am not as I was before, The human I was is no more. I am swept away by natures undertow, The only answers seem in the silent snow. © Sarah Chamberlain 1999 |
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The Cat Who Walks Alone
They say on a bleak winter's night, The wail of a wild cat Rips through the darkness like light; It carries a piercing isolation, Like a new moon, or Like an eclipse of the sun; The cat who walks alone, Belonging to no one. © Sarah Chamberlain 1998 |
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To The Wind The lynx lay in the cage, its pale amber eyes dwindling. It had never known the freedom that was less than a mile away... Green hills, uncut forest, small fields ripe with berries and flowers. The only life accompanying the cat were parasites, insects, and disease. In neighboring cages were its brothers and sisters, some dead, some clinging to life despite the futility of the effort. I opened the chicken-wire cage and let the cat sniff my hand. It was too weak to move its head, and growled softly. I reached in and removed the animal, its bones sharp against my hands. The flies swarmed and the stench was pungeunt. I cradled the lynx and carried it to a flowering grassy field far away and yet so close. We sat together in the grass watching the world. The lynx murred and mustered the strength to raise its head, watching the dance of a nearby bumblebee. I smiled and stroked its fragile body. The cat looked up as if scanning the heavens. As we sat, I suddenly realized that this one moment of freedom was worth a lifetime to the one who had never before experienced it. Tears welled in my eyes as the lynx made a motion to join the wind. In the effort the body broke and I rocked with its fading warmth. © Sarah Chamberlain 1995 |
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The First Snow Sliver of moon overhead Unseen over snow we tread Together in heart and need Yearning to commit our deed On the horizon the deer appear Running, raising their tails in fear Licking our lips in anticipation We steel ourselves for the demolition The Alpha keens his battle cry And off we go, to kill or die Four legs fleeting across the snow The pack and the hunt's the life we know Alpha and Beta in symmetry Drive tooth and nail to the buck with primal glee The pack responds, and helps bring down The buck face-first, into the ground Hot flesh ripped asunder and pools of blood Cover the snow in a gory flood The moon looks on as we devour And howl to celebrate the joy of our power. © Sarah Chamberlain 1995 |
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Snowshoe Snowshoe was the oldest of his kind Gray-haired, gray-furred, gray-eyed He dreamed of days when he ran with his brothers Shifting in mid-stride, leaping over the big creek Two legs on one shore, four legs on the other All as one, nature and kin Snowshoe was bigger and stronger than the rest He brought down aging bucks in the winter By himself, for his people He held no expectations, for expecting Was not their way He lived for the day When the winter of age descended Cold winds lacing the tundra Elk and caribou ending in younger Packmate's jaws Winter kill, ushering Spring life No words spoken, no good-byes made Snowshoe knew when it was his time to go. © Sarah Chamberlain 1995 |
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The Cycle Paws cool on the wet grass Feel the tension leave my breast Flesh mingles to fur The night is not for rest The moon drifts high In the starry sky A low whine ends in a baleful cry The trees seem to sigh So alive on this night The sickle in the sky Beams with pride I feel my soul fly When night gives way to dawn The moon is chased by the sun Fur returns to flesh And the cycle is done. © Sarah Chamberlain 1984 |
