Sunday, April 8, 2018

Poetry Series - Wild Sweet Bird

~Wild Sweet Bird~
Liz Fink-Davenport

I am glad I hit the ground.

I am glad I falter.

I’m glad my flight is flawed.

And I am glad that you see it.

My sweet bird, who watches at the cusp of the nest as the wind pulls the edges of your round hearth and home, small dry straw and bright pieces of yarn I gathered with diligence, are now on the breeze. You are stretching your neck to see me try to navigate the strong press and lift of the air. You shiver against the brisk upturn of downy feathers. And two bright eyes take in my every move. You are learning to fly and fall through my wings. Coast the up current and turn and dip through the sea of wind waves.

I will lose my way, wild sweet bird. I will turn right when left was the answer. I will search for a warm lift and find a cold press and try to bolster through. And I will sometimes fall completely to the earth and lay stunned for a moment. And you will watch. I am glad. Because I would take a thousand hurricanes of terrifying dark and cold solo flights for you. I will show you that the fall can stun but not stop. And I’ll look up with eyes full of relentless strength to feed your eyes.

My child. My bird. You are watching from the nest. But soon you will test timid wings. I’m here. You can rest in my fall. You can take comfort in my harm. I’ll take on the brutal wind and storms for you. But know this, I am glad. Glad that you see my stumble. Glad that you watch me struggle. I’m imperfect, sweet bird. But my love is enough to shelter us both. To give you strength to learn from my failures. And to bolster your flight from the nest that is falling apart.

You are strong.

You can fly.

I’m here to see it.

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