raven

Raven Library

Roots and Wings

David Michaux | 2013


The wind blows where it pleases
You hear its sound
See its effect
The tribal dances of grass-covered ground

But who can master the wind
It will not bow or break
Its course unknown
No seer to divine the path it takes

So it is with the Child of Spirit

The tree well-rooted drinks from the stream
You see its towering bough
Rest under its shade
Which the ancient shelter freely endows

What worry can overcome this rooted citadel
No heat will cause it fear
And its fruit
Lush and succulent every age, every year

So blessed are those planted by the Gardner

Diverse natures inhabiting the earth
Grow an echo in my soul
A singular spirit
Resounding two calls of nature old

A nature of root
A nature of wing
One instinct to plant
Another to fly free

Wisdom, you maiden of old
And one created before I,
Your whisper ancient
Seeds the thought of green leaves dancing in mid-July

You would have me sprout from rich earth
Dig deep into nutritious soil
Extend to dark reaches
Solid and immovable; in one forest to live and toil

And Spirit, one more ancient still
You who glided over the waters,
The sky is your son
Each bird and breeze your daughter

By your irresistible zephyr and gale
I am propelled to peoples unknown
To lands unseen
Distant horizons further still than my own

Wisdom, she speaks of root
Spirit, it lifts my wing
One instructs toward founded home
The other moves me to endless roam

Despite my contention of mind and heart
Wisdom and Spirit are kin
Leaf dances only by aid
Every sparrow needs a branch to nest in

Despite the war of my soul
Wisdom can never betray
Or Spirit mislead
No harm in the choice to select one way

And also, no decision of path can bind,
With chain too strong,
A permanence of way
A style to which one eternally belong

Wisdom, here too, she sings her truth:
Weep not for sights unseen
Nor for road untraveled
Only love, my friend, and sit by me.

And Spirit, in wisdom, teaches:
Look not back to familiar hearth
Nor toward future home
Wind, my child, carries the seed to its plot of earth.

So now I will learn from each
Spirit can carry me on
to Wisdom’s home
Carried, by wing, to take root within distant furtive lawn

Though lesson learned a struggle remains
Am I now in the forest of Wisdom
Or will Spirit stir again