Wing of the Eagle

By Cliff Lake

 

Wing of the Eagle

 

Majestic flight sullied,

Morning has long passed.

A far-seeing eye blinded,

Her young cry hungry,

The nest abandoned,

Her partner driven off.

The winds are changing,

And she responds with voice,

But adjusts her glide not,

She is headlong and downward,

And the hard landing rushes.

 

Once she soared…

 

White-crowned without wisdom,

Her wings cannot carry her burden.

Weighted with gold,

And barreled crude…

Her talons grasp and grope –

What futile hunt compels her?

Once the eagle soared,

Now she is bound to performative purpose,

And suspect intent.

 

Cruel men bind her to low course,

They shorten her sight.

They lead her over lands far flung,

To threaten,

To menace,

A weapon she is become,

A huntress gone savage,

Goaded by barbs and restraints unnatural,

Though she has nestlings unattended,

And wanting.

Never had she such ambition and now…

 

Once the eagle soared…

 

Mechanized minds hew at her nobler manner,

They direct her gaze at weak prey,

That she may not carry home.

They keep her brood starved,

And just alive enough.

They too will be used,

In time,

At need,

Or more likely,

At want.

They plan little growth,

Though their pockets bulge.

 

Once the eagle soared…

 

She is fed carrion,

Her offspring accept scraps.

Their cries sound loudly,

A chorus of demand unheard,

But ringing louder:

They have grown in their neglect,

They grow yet.

Fledglings, yes,

But they must leave the nest,

Once they do –

They must hunt.

 

Once the eagle soared…

 

More will soon wing.

Look out below…

 

Cliff Lake 3/29/2026

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2026.

Location: Washington, DC, USA

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