Contemplations on the death of a bird:

Oh my dear little friend,
When sky’s your home,
And ground your rest.
And chicks are chirping in your nest.

I saw you, flutter and flatter about,
and I pleaded to know what harmed you.
And when my mum stood and watched,
from kitchen window, I knew she knew

And there you still were, stiller than before.
not calmer but more subdued.
as if from a heavy weight trying-
trying to breathe. Oh God. You’re dying

Mum rush! There’s no time! It needs us!
And she wrapped you up to look,
and bestilled your wings of liberation.
And then passed you to me.

she said that we had naught but wait.
And wait I did for the ending breath.
For in that day, with you and I there,
I would not leave you alone with death.

I held you closer in my arms.
I hope they did give you aid.
To stop your terrified eyes from raging-
those eyes, I then saw fading

Is there not more time to hold you?
Is there nothing I can do?
I want it to know she’s not alone, Mum!
Do you hear me? I was there with you.

I cried on your soft wings.
When you had left me quietly.
Why is it fair? That you are gone,
but I hoped my arms made it go lightly.

That fear I saw in your eyes.
unawares of why or how.
Me too, my little feathered friend,
for in my youth I cried “not now”.

I hope you knew that I was there.
That I never left your side,
I hope you heard my plea.
That I will stay while you died

And I did, I swear I held you near!
and wept my youthful eyes in fear.


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