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Cooper's Hawk 

80 x 52 x 25 cm

November 30sth. 2017

After I finished the previous box (“laying down her last wing”), I had serious doubts about my work.  The very next day I found you right here,  I saw your dark form against the light colored dried out grass, I  made you easily out, amongst various other darker spots of different kind, even with my reading glasses perched on my nose, as if you told me “make me”.

A Cooper’s hawk, a juvenile, undamaged your body is, preserved by nature itself.

He was so light, the wind laid you at my feet.

Fear is not an emotion a Hawk entertains, even for a second. 

Life took you down early, your shoulders so sadly drooped. 

A nail of your left toe touched your right leg, stiff, telling. I read into your posture. 

Pinned down on his perch by strings and weights, he put forward his leg:

 ...cut me loose or cut my wrist...

My ‘gold’ is floating away from me, I can not live like this.

The Darklings, the black bugs, haul away my hope.

It is dark here. I hear you.

Take the knife.

In ancient times the Hawk was associated with the soul, a messenger from other realms.

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