High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing.
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
~Gerard Manley Hopkins from “The Windhover – For Christ Our Lord”
And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?
~Mary Oliver from “The Swan”
I hold my heart in hiding, trying to protect that tender core of who I am from being pierced and shredded by the slings and arrows of every day life.
Yet to live fully as I am created to live, I must fling myself into the open, wimpling wings spread, the wind holding me up hovering. I must change my life as the wind changes.
I take my chances, knowing the fall has come. My wounds shall be healed, even as they bleed.
There is no wonder of it. So stirred. So much beauty to behold.
Ah… Ah, my dear.