head pink and shriveled wrinkled and leathery shrouded in a gift of brown or grey or black,
cape or black feathers
I take death through my nostrils and blow it out eat it up with no scent
(I am immune to dead flesh scent and have a weak nose)
I scavenge,
I survive.
No matter the circumstances or the star of the world
I laugh at a Global Pandemic
nothing can get me through this tough skin
I have seen death in so many lifetimes
it is a cyclical cycle passed down through thousands of generations
people plants animals minerals the earth and all itβs beauty purging itself of disease through disease
Ahead we tread
wary, hearts broken but I will always be there with my tar black feathers and my pink, gray, wrinkled head
wise beyond my years
I say I am immune but I am not immune to fear
that eats away inside me like nothing else
It sits
right below my diaphragm
like a tiny crystal bead or stone
hard
shiny
clear and refracted sparkling and always embedded beneath my rib cage
And as I fly up into the bright blue horizon that chilly, desert wasteland I flutter and hover staying between heaven and hell
Living in a sort of purgatory
cleaning up messes and sweeping under the rug
Like a garbage truck Like the Liver
I dispel rot within my industrial gut I eat zombies for breakfast I chomp bones to white powder in my strong black beak I cough up bone dust like cigar smoke I throw up green poison I am immune to rotting flesh I devour the end I unleash a new beginning
I am the Vulture
Ugly, yet beautiful at the same exact time
Scary and bold, I go where no bird has ever gone before.
I am not scared of death, I eat it for breakfast.
I scavenge,
I survive.
Ahead, we tread to a new year
and I know one thing for certain.
I am surrounded by white light. My family is surrounded by white light. My friends are surrounded by white light. I am lucky. I am grateful. I am healthy and my family is healthy.
I know one thing for certain; we will all get through this