The Eagle’s Mile

Eagles

Eagles If I told you I used to know the circular truth Of the void, that I have been all over it building My height receiving overlook And that my feathers were not Of feather-make, but broke from a desire to drink The rain before it falls or as it is falling: If I were to tell you that the rise of any free bird Is better the larger the bird is, And that I found myself one of these Without surprise, you would understand That this makes of air a thing that would be liberty Enough for any world but this one, And could see how I should have gone Up and out of all all of it On feathersglinting Multitudinously as rain, as silica-sparks around One form with wings, as it is hammered loose From rock, at dead Of classic light: that is, at dead Of light. 3 Believe, too, While you're at it, that the flight of eagles has For use, long muscles steeped only In escape, and moves through Clouds that will open to nothing But if, where the bird leaves behind All sympathy: leaves The man who, for twenty lines Of a new poem, thought he would not be shut From those wings: believed He could be going. I speak to you from where I was shook off: I say again, shook Like this, the words I had When I could not spread: When that bird rose Without my shoulders: Leave my unstretched weight, My sympathygrovelling In weeds and nothing, and go up from the human downbeat in my hand. Go up without anything Of me in your wings, but remember me in your feet As you fold them. The higher rock is The more it lives. Where you take hold, I will take That stand in my mind, rock bird alive with the spiritlife of height, on my down-thousands Of fathoms, classic Claw-stone, everything under. 4 ...