Why I love Turkey Vultures

[elad12]

I wrote this several years ago when someone wondered why I liked Turkey Vultures so much

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I was about five the first time I met Vulture.
My neighbor had already been raping me in the backyard by then.
I think Vulture knew, enough was enough.
As he swooped down I seemed to know instinctively how to grab on.
I had no fear of him.
It was like I’d always known him.
He didn’t swoop down and take all of me.
He just took that inner part of me, the part that could feel the pain.
Perhaps it was my soul.
I remember looking down on myself as we rose, Vulture holding me up.
I could see the pain in my trembling body, but no longer felt it.
Instead I felt the strength in Vulture’s wings as he thrust us higher.
I sensed that he didn’t want me to see myself down there as he reached for the thermal that would take us away.
Once we were high enough we took off in some other direction, speeding along.
The feeling of flying with Vulture was the most free and wonderful feeling.
I wanted it to last forever.
But after a while we had to fly back.
Vulture could not keep me forever.
He had come to teach me, not to keep me.
It was then, when he dropped me back in my body that I knew.
I knew that I could make that part of me fly away whenever I needed to.
After that day I was nearly always able to fly up in the sky when needed.
Years later my neighbor had moved and I no longer needed to fly.
In fact I could no longer make myself fly.
I would lie in the field as still as possible waiting and hoping that Vulture would come back for me so we could fly together once more.
Although he would circle high above, he would not come for me again, not like that first time.
But, Vulture has always been nearby.
He comes to me often but not to fly.
He comes to give me strength.
We will only fly together one more time.
And it will be the last flight for me in this lifetime.