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| @skyloverpoetry on Instagram |
look to the Passenger Moon
with her iridescent bronze feathers
and black-spotted wings, captured
on camera a century ago, and know:
none of us was built to last the famine.
You long for a hand to hold, don’t you?
No-one wants to be the last of their kind.
A Friday 55 for the old year in its death throes.
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| Ink, Pen & Paintbrush Illustration |
Reading the Wikipedia article about this bird makes me feel ill. It was reportedly once the most abundant bird in North America, until it was over-hunted and so many forests were cut down. And I'm sorry to say, I feel more for this bird because of its beauty and softness than I do for the thylacine, whose extinction should be equally disheartening to me, though it is not because I perceive it as scary.
ReplyDeleteAs always, your visual presentation is just as effective as what you've written. Your painting and handwriting are beautiful. I so look forward to your posts; it is so generous of you to take the extra time to present your work in this way, which heightens the experience for those of us who are visually stimulated.
I like that you entitled this "Passenger Moon," versus "Passenger Bird," which allows this to be about anything, and immediately makes me think of a road trip in which the moon (whom I picture as a girl) is sitting in the passenger seat, being driven across country --- which makes me think of my young mother, taking these amazing trips as a child/youth with her aunt. So if my young mom IS the moon, and you're talking TO her, then I interpret this to mean that she could look to herself and hold her own hand, because she is the last of her kind. She cannot depend on others to take care of her or make her feel safe and comfortable; she has to do that for herself, knowing full-well there will be no more like her once she dies. Obviously in light of recent events, this is very personal for me.
My mom married three times and had plenty of beaus, but I think she never quite felt fully loved or known or completed. Maybe no one does. Maybe we are all/each a singular "last" of our own species, waiting to die off and be no more. Yes, I think that is true.
"with her iridescent bronze feathers
ReplyDeleteand black-spotted wings, captured
on camera a century ago, and know[n]"
So very close to "known," but not quite.
Thank you so much for taking the time to come over to read and comment. I am glad that this poem spoke to you of your mother. I like the interpretation you found, love the whole idea of your mother, the moon, always alone but still connected to you on a different level.
DeleteBeautiful, Kerry. I love the idea of a Passenger Moon.
ReplyDeleteThank you for coming over to read, Sherry.
Deletehmmm- so much to ponder here! Lovely and your drawings are wonderful!
ReplyDeleteThank you for stopping by, Margaret.
DeleteThis is incredibly beautiful in its word choices and imagery, Kerry!❤️ Especially love; "iridescent bronze feathers."
ReplyDeleteYour words here made me feel that melancholy — to breathe in the understanding of being alive and being lonely or alone, whichever way it is, struck a chord. The story of the last Passenger Pigeon adds into the veracity of this condition. I am going to take this bit with me, because it is so simple and yet so profound: "and know:/none of us was built to last the famine./You long for a hand to hold, don’t you?"
ReplyDeleteSuch a disaster I used to read about when i was young... how easy it was to extinguish a specie... also thinking a lot about the last one left.
ReplyDeleteSo many species have become extinct. 60% of the species have become extinct since 1920. Such a gentle creature. A lovely illustration as well. So sad. Passenger moon...the beauty in the sky and then, it fades
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written, Kerry. You’ve conveyed so much in 55 words and a Passenger Moon.
ReplyDeleteThat's funny...they used to tell me "we hope we've seen the last of your kind around here!"
ReplyDeleteLOL! Surely not!
DeleteI am touched by your poem and your beautiful painting. Thanks so much!!
ReplyDeleteIn Alice Walker's book, The Temple of my Familiar, is a story about a woman, the last of her kind. People from her tribe, were captured and put into the museum for all to see...everyone from her tribe, had died...they rescued her.
DeleteWonderfully written with many insights.
ReplyDeleteI'm the other famous extinct bird, of course. Though I very much doubt I ever was one of a kind. ~
ReplyDeleteThat is so patently NOT true. Never met anyone else with your creative vision.
DeleteIf "none of us were built to last the famine" then all of us are reflected in that Passenger Moon, the evidence or record of extinctions passing and gone. I think its a magnificent metaphor and speaks to the heart of all lonely passings. Lonely George, a Hawaiian tree snail, passed the other day, taking with him an entire species, one of hundreds of species of Hawiaan snails to suffer from human development and climate change. Lonely stuff: gorgeous moon.
ReplyDeleteOh how horrible.. every snail counts, our biodiversity is unique to this world. How can we allow it to be destroyed? We know better now than ever before the responsibility we have to the existence of life in the universe.
DeleteI believe we are caretakers of God's world but are doing a horrible job of it. Especially in the last 50 years. I liked reading this but felt badly for this bird. Another more famous I would liked to have seen was the Dodo Bird.
ReplyDelete..