theft of magic

The theft of magic

Told us our plight was loneliness,

That the land was a thing

And not a mother to hold us

To feed us and shelter us.

Our connection to spirit and nature

Villainized, sterilized,

Or worse,

Made imaginal.

A unquenchable thirst

And the world so dry

The nectar of spirit and intrinsic connection

To flora and fauna

Cast to the realm 

Of untouchable and forbidden.

This grief and yearning for what is mostly unknown

Other than the glorious flitting moment

When the hawk

Lands on our fence

And looks us in the eyes

To speak to us without words.