Scavenging

Sometimes I think about vultures
Gliding on the heat pushed out by a storm
Taking apart the broken with indecent relish
Wheeling down from heaven to examine roadkill

There are truths found in their wings
Perspective, and opportunity, and guiltlessness
Descent and humility
Freedom

There are so many weights that cling to the skin
Oh, that we could shake them off like water droplets
And find ourselves winged
And find ourselves flying

And find ourselves realizing
How unnecessary it is
When we are all bedraggled and drowning together
To pick and worry and squabble and plot

Pride wins no prizes
Dignity is not existing
Other is not lesser
And dead is not done

Sometimes I think about vultures
And I think, me too.