Tom’s Eagle Feather


Born to soar

I lost my anchor

Unhinged pulled free and fell

Fluttering to obscurity

meaninglessness.

Robbed of life.


Picked up, taken without liberty

Denied all pursuit of happiness

carried off and tooled 

to a fine point to be drowned

In a sea of indigo


Scratched roughly on raw parchment

Shaping a spidery trail of words

To soar in ways, to heights, beyond imagining––

We hold these truths . . .


 © Philip Knight 2018