For the One Path of My Flight is Direct Through the Bones of the Living

    I’ve been forwarding my Abduction Weekend series drafts to Heinrich for approval before I post them.  Most are heavily edited, but he is still wary–understandably–about posting some of it online.  Naturally, I want to respect everyone’s privacy, so I’m re-tooling a few parts. 

     In the meantime, here is an excerpt from the poem I was forced to memorize and recite upon request…often in extremely distracting circumstances.  Heinrich tells me that I am fortunate, because he wanted me to recite Goethe.  There is no way I could have managed that; my German is too rusty now. 

      He knew that I like birds, and he wanted me to better understand the mindset of himself and the men who had me in the following days.  It is interesting that he did not want me to meditate upon my own predicament but instead focus on his/their experience. 

From Hawk Roosting, by Ted Hughes 

My feet are locked upon the rough bark. 
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot

Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly –
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads –

The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:

The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.

And also:

Schon war ich auch, und das war mein Verdeben.
(Fair I was also, and that was my ruin.) 
                                    –von Goethe 

2 thoughts on “For the One Path of My Flight is Direct Through the Bones of the Living”

  1. Felicity, you are very welcome!

    Google the entire poem. It’s awesome.

    Thanks for reading and please come back any time! I always appreciate any reader feedback and it’s lovely to get a female reader (most of my 8 readers are doodz).

    Miss Margo

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