Raven
The sun was setting over the once lush green mountains. The mountains now resemble a quilt my grandmother made for me as a child. The colors red, bronze, copper, and a slight hint of green covered the autumn peaks.
I take a deep breath; fresh pine air fills my senses. A gentle breeze caresses my face. I hear a raven sigh as it raises its wings and flies into the metallic sunset. I smile as the raven soars overhead. The swiftness of the mighty bird’s wings. The freeness of its soul. I imagine the raven’s magnificent view while it glides out of sight.
What does this bird see? Is it a civilization gone wrong? With fighting and wars? Or, Is it the beauty of the earth and people coming together?
One gift of flying among the clouds is that people and their troubles appear small. The desire for peace and unity is stronger. The hope for it comes together high above the mountains.
As I walk through the naked forest on a well-beaten path, I notice squirrels scrambling to grab food before dark and chipmunks chasing each other through the colorful leaves. The sound of them rustling around causes me to smile again. It brings happiness to my soul.
Crackling twigs beneath my boots remind me of the many times I went hiking with my father. The smell of the autumn air fills my nostrils, soothing my mind and refreshing my body. I stop to watch the chipmunks and imagine they are playing tag. I giggle as I visualize one yelling to the other, “Tag, you’re it!”
I look up to see a babbling brook in the distance. The sound is soothing as the fluidness of the water flows over the hardness of the rocks. As I get closer, I notice the raven swooping down to grab a fish. I begin to think about the circle of life. Where it begins and where it ends. We start as precious gifts, and we grow rigid from our environments. As our lives progress, we either learn to take the high road or struggle with the low road. I compare my circle with that of the ravens.
I hold my aging hands out to examine them. Tanned with time and worn by years of hard work. The passage of youth to maturity is evident as I notice the sunspots decorating them. I face the breeze, close my eyes, and imagine my younger self gathering flowers with elegant, youthful hands. Tender inexperienced fingers are rubbing the brightly colored petals of a pansy. Time is both a penalty and a pardon.
I lie down in the grass and look up at the night sky; there are a billion stars and other galaxies. The beauty of the day never ends. Random thoughts run through my mind. I consider the freedom I have to be here. And my convictions, as well as the honorable things I have done in my lifetime. I realize what a journey it has been, all things I experienced, the people I met, and what if I could do it over. What would I change? My eyelids are heavy, and my heartbeat is slowing. I did the best I could with what I had. My life was whole. I close my eyes to this beautiful place. I allow my soul to escape this old body and pursue a new one.
I slowly open my eyes; the wind surrounds me, and the harvest moon shines over my old body beneath us. I soar over a still spot in the waters below. I see my elegant new feathered body mirrored in the moonlit Adam’s ale.
I am free.
THE END
Angelina Collins & Mojha MacDowell
2020
