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White Kites

August 18, 2021

with great love, for David who flew on on August 14, 2021

*Note: A kite is a raptor, similar to a hawk

We walk barefoot over warm earth—

you with a walking staff, leaning into me 

for balance. Through the just plowed fields, 

under the old fence, across the low sway

of stream trickling, because drought 

has been on the land for years now. 

What it is to love and pray in these times 

that the ancient ones have sung about, 

have prophesied, for centuries.


And now, these days are here, and we are here.

And as we stand in the burnished summer fields

of waist high golden grass and chicory,

as we speak of the presence of illness 

in both of our bodies, of what it is to live

with the ally of death on our shoulders—

of how we feel the pulse of the divine life force 

pumping through every cell of our beings –

first one white kite*, then another, 

and then a third converge above us

in a holy trinity—like the triple spirals 

in the Celtic lands of our ancestors.


They cry out, they swoop and dive and circle 

in this dance of three—like you and me 

and the holy spirit—and a doorway 

between worlds opens. And their wings

catch the light in rainbows, carve the air, 

and their cries seem to say to us—

there is no death, there is no death—

there is only this miraculous arrival

here in the center, here in the communion of Now,

here where two or more hearts gather 

in my name— in the name of the Great Love 

that weaves through our bodies and beyond.  


And I know then that no matter

where our destinies take us, 

no matter how long each of us has 

in these mortal temples—

that this communion is eternal 

and that we will always find each other

in the doorway where the three kites fly—

our feet in the soft dust,

our faces lifted in awe.  

©Laura Weaver

One Comment leave one →
  1. August 18, 2021 4:07 pm

    thank you for this, Laura…and deepest condolences.

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