Feathers | Victoria C. Slotto, Author

Listening Woman

Image: Wikipedia
Labeled for non-commercial reuse.

Thirteen of us sit in a circle around Darleen, our friend of Native American descent, our friend who shared a deep spiritual journey with us that was different from what we knew. Over the months she shared the beauty of the American Indian traditions—beauty that enriched our own understanding of the Great Spirit without taking anything from our own beliefs. Beauty that helped us to behold the wonders of creation with fresh insight.

Today, she introduces us to the talking stick. A large hawk feather wrapped around a stick with leather and beads. It is used in tribal councils, and for our purpose in group discussion. The stick is passed around the circle to the person who wants to share her views. Only the person holding the stick is allowed to speak. Everyone else listens.

eagle feather soar
words born of thoughtful silence
spirit wisdom speaks

Posting a 2nd poem, a haibun, for my feather prompt at dVerse Poetics.

I’m hosting for Tuesday’s dVerse Poetics and am looking for poetry about feathers. Please join us with a poem of your own.

Photo: V. Ceretto

feather art

she would paint feathers, she told me,
would spend her days waiting
for feathers fluttering to earth
borne on gentle zephyrs
feathers fallen to the ground
those scattered by a bird of prey
the bodies of a sparrow or a wren

she chooses brushes carefully
(the finest sables) or a nib
she’d load with color or with ink
to focus on delicate detail
outlining veins and every plume
the clash of color line and shape

for feathers are what makes a bird a bird,
she says, and wonders why the jays glow blue
and orioles gold and how to capture iridescence
such glorious structures fractal-ly complex

her studio’s awash in brilliant quills
exotic colors luminous light
collected on the beach and desert floors
some in the mountain heights on trails
and in her garden bed beneath the trees

her work is like a prayer, she says,
a mystical mandala journey to within
she dips her pen into the very heart
of our creation’s source, and recreates
the energy that throbs beneath
the skin of every living being