cry for the hawk
Don't cry for the hawk, and to look at her life I should realize
the sky's daughter;  she knows her world 
beloved of the wind, much like a hawk knows to fly...
she's at home in the place .
she was born for, .
the life that she knows,
there's no other. .
Don't cry for the hawk
you could never see 
her world through your eyes;
She soars ever-watchful
tenaciously clinging 
to heights she has clawed
on her own, and each day
she will give it her strength,
her reason for being.
You watch her and dream
of possession, encounter --
a sign of her having seen;
brushed by sky,
her colors of silence, 
watchfulness, solitude.
Don't cry for the hawk
she knows she's bounded
by time and by circumstance
much more than you --
feeling the passage of seasons, 
each new day giving
herself to the sky.
Will she know 
the last time she'll ascend, 
will tomorrow
still bring her the heights 
she's achieved in her prime,
will the wind hold her gently
her world forgive her
for weakness,
for mornings seen weary, 
for prey she'd forsake
and taking for granted
those lonely spirals descending,
her strength her salvation --
She can't soar so slow 
as to see you crying for her.
Jon Bohrn (1999)

 

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hawk, flying