I am a hawk, and there is blood on my feathers. ~John Denver
Does hawk lament because it must kill to survive? Because it must take life day after day to ensure the survival of it’s always hungry brood, to silence the chirping demands of its progeny?
I, too, am Hawk. I, too, have blood on my feathers. There is the blood of the food I take to survive which is a something I can reconcile and emerge with a clean conscience. The blood staining my feathers from the violence of my transgression against humanity is another story.
I abhor the blood borne of the violence of my selfish actions. The times I demeaned another human. The violence of gossip. The violence of hate. The violence of thinking I was somehow better than my neighbor. The violence of judging another individual. The violence of looking down on others. These acts of violence smear my feathers in blood.
Sometimes, I think, no matter how much I work to right my wrongs, no matter how many times I build up others and be a positive influence in the world, no matter how many times I exude love onto humanity my feathers will be forever blood stained.