Songs of
Eretz Poetry Review is pleased to present “Black Feathers” by Loretta Diane Walker. Ms. Walker is an elementary music
teacher from Odessa, Texas. She
has taught at Reagan Academic Magnet for thirty-two years and was voted Teacher
of the Year in 2001. She has a BME from Texas Tech University and an MA in
Education from The University of Texas of the Permian Basin. A two-time Pushcart nominee, Ms. Walker was
elected as the 2014 “Statesman in the Arts” by the Odessa’s Heritage Council.
Ms. Walker has published two collections of poetry. Her manuscript Word
Ghetto won the 2011 Bluelight Press Book Award. Her work has
appeared in many prestigious publications, including: Ashbury Literary Journal, The Texas Observer, Orbis International
Journal, San Pedro River Review,
Illya’s Honey, Red River Review, Perception Literary Magazine, and Connecticut River Review.
Black
Feathers
Winter has
ripped away the pecan trees’ disguise
exposing
every muscle and sinew,
blemish and
crack,
vulnerable
to the wind’s strong lust for power.
It could
snap its wooden tendons with one heavy sigh.
And what of
our vulnerability?
How we
cling to anonymity, fear transparency,
for others
to see us in our humanness,
or for
things old and broken to surface, spill out
from behind
walls of insecurity.
Once I told
a secret.
I know the
blow of rejection, the crush of words,
shame
rising from my countenance
like steam
from an iron.
On this
winter’s dusk,
clouds make
a gray skirt around the moon’s fat bottom.
Over the
pecan trees’ bald head,
a wave of
black feathers ripples
across a
rain colored sky.
The cold’s
icy knuckles brush my face—
batter
grackles’ wings, flapping, squawking
as though
their out of tune melody will heat the air.
My hands
are two brown rafts floating
in the
warmth of my pockets when I see them—
two
teenagers talking with their thumbs,
pressing
buttons on cell phones,
swift,
staccato, sure like the rain,
their
voices drowning.
Poet’s Notes: I love the
naked, raw beauty of trees in the winter. Each branch is a sculpture of
vulnerability--a testament there is strength in transparency.
I used to live across the street from our mall. One chilly and cloudy
winter afternoon, I braved the weather and walked over to relieve myself from
cabin fever. Grackles were extremely vocal this particular afternoon. It was as
if they were warning me. In Odessa, a cloudy sky does not necessarily mean
rain. However, during my walk over it started to pour. Inside, I walked behind
two teenagers. They walked side-by-side texting rapidly. The whole while I was
behind them, they did not look at or speak to each other.
Editor’s Note: “Black Feathers” was first published in
The Texas Poetry Calendar in 2011.
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