"Migrations" ((Inuyoko Mass #45))

"Migrations"

by Inuyoko

Originally read in deoch 219 on the 6th sun of the 30th moon.

((04/23/2026))

Hello, everyone. My name is Inuyoko T’Alveni. I am a Priestess of this Shrine, and a member of its clergy since deoch 53. Last double-moon, I spoke about love. Today, I’d like to share another poem I’ve written, as part of my ongoing journey to push myself to explore a medium I love deeply and hopefully improve myself through the creative process. As well as hopefully inspire you all to pursue creativity, and your passions, even if you're afraid you may not be "good enough." With your kind indulgence, I will share it now. It is called: “Migrations.”

A young Mundane looks up at the skies

Painted with clouds, and peppered like a

Pointillist painting with black dots that 

Steadily move across their canvas.

These birds, they make their way along

To some new place, it’s hard to say exactly where.

And as the seasons change, this boy,

He watches as they travel once again

In rigid unison across the world, returning

To another enigmatic destination.

“That is true freedom right there,” he whispers

Reverently beneath his breath, as his feet carry him

Along the mountainous path from plains of Ardmagh

Back towards Mileth. Every moon or so, he finds

An appetite for Oona’s meaty pies. And then,

With belly full his path is drawn back to a nap

In Piet’s inn. A bed prepared by Riona keeps

A comfort just the same as Saskia’s does,

But this old friend, she always has a story and

A smile that keeps his toes and soul a little warmer.

Another deoch passes, and the early morning

Grasses overgrow along the banks of rivers. 

They graze his legs with a gentle, wet tickle, and

He gets the thought to grab a pole and fish 

A little. While running back with gear in hand,

Above his head, the birds are soaring yet again,

Their trail a mirror of the footprints left in

The sand. The line and die is cast as he

Stands tall. “Perhaps,” the thought occurs,

“True freedom is down here after all.”

I suppose the idea in my mind behind this work is how the routine of our day to day lives can deceive us into believing that things are more mundane than they really are. We see the migration of birds as seasons change, and because we cannot trace their path, our minds are forced to fill in what’s missing. With them so high above us, out of reach, and left with only the mystery, we can’t help but feel as though there is some deep importance to their journey that is lacking in our own. But they, too, are beckoned by forces which they may not understand. Looking down, perhaps they wish they had the time to stop and appreciate the detailed texture of the world we tread, instead often only a smudge of green and blue and grey from so high up. But when we take the time to slow down, and reflect on even the most drudgerous periods of our lives, we realize that there is more beauty than we thought. Every action is part of a complex web of circumstance that we all hold a unique place in. And in that web is where potential lies. Nothing, not even that which is literally written in stone, is permanent and static. I believe that fact is part of why Deoch chose to give us even more potential. As long as we have that, even the sky itself is not the limit.