The Day of the Hawk

I went to the city
and ate my loneliness
where everybody is nobody
who cried in a loud voice,
‘‘reject him.’’
The rivers smelled of decay
and air blinded my eyes
with the dust from chimneys.
I went to the country
and listened to solitude
but the man who killed the deer
cried, ‘‘I am a man and this
is only an animal.’’
He offered to feed me but
the bloody flesh sealed my mouth.
I walked beside a small stream
that led me into the mountain
and found a strange woman
nursing a dead fire.
‘‘My white cape is soiled,’’
she told me, ‘‘and the spirit
no longer comes when I wear it.’’
I looked at the sky and saw
a huge hawk in the wind,
his eyes brighter than fire,
his talons curved scimitars,
his wings shadowed the world.