Poem: "Dark Triangles"

[ysabetwordsmith]

This poem was written outside the fishbowl sessions, inspired by a prompt from rhodielady_47.  It has been sponsored by Shirley Barrette.  You can find the other poems in the Fledgling Grace series via the Serial Poetry page.  Read about the glaucous gull, the saker falcon, and the white-tailed eagle.  I also researched the German eagle, the Mongol Empire, and Mongolia's national bird.  See an example of the sacral triangle.

Dark Triangles

In France, the wings of pigeons and doves
are ubiquitous, but not quite universal.
This is a land known well
to the boots of conquerors.

There had always been
the dark sacral triangle of the Mongols,
like a shadowy saddle left behind
by the horse-mastering ancestors.

Now it is accompanied by the
deckled grey wings of the saker falcon
with their sharp little chevrons,
another shadow cast by
an ancient camp where
wounded Mongol soldiers
remained behind after
their army withdrew.

There are others, too,
whose creamy feathers bear
the broad gray triangle
of the glaucous gull
stamped across the back
of their wings and tail,
legacy of Viking forefathers.

Some show the sooty wings
and pearly tail of the
white-tailed eagle from Germany,
left behind like lost arrow fletchings
from this war or that one.

They stand out from their countrymen
here in France, but they do not
hold any close call toward their
ancestral homelands either.

Instead they feel drawn to each other,
all of them warchildren from scattered ages
and wide-wandering grandfathers.
In this they are alike;
in this they find their kinship.

In their every feather is written
the bitter history of humanity.
They are determined to do better,
to find a way -- or if
no way might be found,
then to make  one.

They are diplomats,
these descendants of soldiers,
a dark triangle pointing relentlessly
toward the light.

When a black man walks by
and fixes them with a glare,
they wave to him and call him brother --
and he pauses,
mantling his grey gull-wings.

"I am no relation of yours,"
he snaps.  "It would have been better
if the French had never come to Senegal!
You white people think you can
rape and kill and steal
from everyone who doesn't look like you."

"Look at us," says a Viking-winged man.
"We do it to each other too."
"Come and sit with us,"
invites a German-winged woman.
The black man rustles his wings,
then pulls out a wire-woven chair
and sits down.

Comments

[technoshaman.livejournal.com]

Mmmm. Diplomacy by commonality of horror.

*nods in appreciation*

Thank you!

[ysabetwordsmith.livejournal.com]

People respond to challenging situations in different ways. Some of them act worse. Others act better. Although there are a few poems in which people really drop the ball, many seem to be responding well to God's latest hint. They're taking a hopeful perspective on it and trying to follow through with something good.