Headless

A gift from the skies, in amongst the new bulb shoots.  The body of a sea bird.  Head severed, fresh and bloodless.


Headless: an homage to Thich Nhat Hanh
I am the daffodils and the tulips
Green shoots in a hard frost
I am the woman who planted 
These bulbs
Longs for their return each Spring
Peering now at an unrecognisable form
Curious
I am the seabird
Foraging the tideline
I am the bird’s breakfast
Squirming about my morning business
I am the raptor
Swooping, seizing
I am the predator
Soaring, drooling
I am the prey
Squirming, flapping
I am the hunter 
Clutching breakfast
Tight, too tight
Soaring high
Beak and belly empty
I am the seabird plummeting
Wings folded
To earth with a thud
Amidst the green shoots
I am the woman
Imagining it all
Unravelling the mystery
Making stories
Finding meaning
In this gift from the skies
A woman remembering
Thich Nhat Hanh:  Please Call Me by My True Names.
May he rest in peace
If he does not, who then can?