Prosepoem: A Gift Of Eagles
On my way to a healing workshop, driving North out of the city,
by Hugh Cobb
I went under an overpass & nearly lost control when a large
Golden Eagle swooped low across my hood, turned & flew
out to the open sky. His scree pierced steady thrum of engine
& tires' rhythm on the road.
(A few nights earlier I'd dreamed an eagle had built a nest
in my house, in the attic. I told an ancient shaman of my dream &
asked him if it had any significance. He told me it was a good
sign. He said the eagle had chosen me & that it would be
a spirit animal of mine.)
As I continued on my journey, about 20 miles up the highway,
I saw a pair of eagles, one on each side of the road.
They moved in perfect harmony as if dancing in the sky.
I watched them join together & soar away when I passed by.
Just before I reached my turn-off I looked up and to my right.
In the sky, circling high above Georgia pines was a fourth eagle;
this one a Bald Eagle, solitary, & once more I heard that
piercing call & knew the truth of the shaman's words.
I gladly welcomed the eagles' gifts & knew I was coming
in to my power. After the workshop, I thought that my time
with eagles was done, but several years later in another
state in the small town where I reside, I was meditating
sitting on the stone wall near the Public Library. I felt something
lightly brush my right cheek. Startled, I opened my eyes to
see a large Golden Eagle swooping low along the sidewalk.
Her pinions had just touched my face & I knew that the
Eagle's Gift was not forgotten, not just a one-time visitation.
She was there to remind me that I was hers but most important
she was there to remind me to always let my spirit soar.