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Monday, January 15, 2007

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So this poem was for my class also. I don't know why it's in a crappy form, cause that's not how it actually looks, but it pasted that way. So just ignore it.

 

 

The Bird of Discard

Her eyes were locked up like a bird in its nest during a storm

when lightening and thunder beat down upon the earth in torrential waves.

When the storm was over, She peeked out slowly, shook Her feathered head
sending silver beads of water drip-drop-dripping to the mossy forest floor

where the ants and spiders scurried about, each to fulfill their Daily Destiny.

She’d preen Her winds, one at a time, with a beak adorned in crimson from

the sunset, and She threw to the side the old dead parts of Herself that

held Her back from fulfilling Her Daily Destiny. In a clump on the splintered

branches lay Her pride and insecurities, Her fears and discontentment with

all She once was. As it grew larger it formed another bird, one dark and

mysterious, with secrets all its own. It towered above Her, spread its malformed

wings to an expanse so great it cast a shadow through the forest, blocking the

sunlight from fulfilling its Daily Destiny. She spread Her own wings, to fly away,

escape the monster She had unknowingly created, but he was too strong. Rising

as smoke from a smoldering fire, he over powered Her, crumbled Her feathers in

his claws as he took flight to carry Her away from all She had once known as safe.

She opened Her crimson beak to cry for help from anyone who would look upon Her

and take pity, but no sound came, for Her voice had been lost under the discarded

remains of all She had once been. With fear and panic in Her heart

the black bird swept Her through the thick fog which he cast out to hide them from any who would see. Hopelessness rose in Her spirit, a sense of failure as strong as the bird’s claws grasped

at Her crippled heart. All Her work to cleanse Herself was in vain. Had She refused

the change, She would be unhappy, but She would be back home, comfortable in Her

Discontentment. The black bird carried Her farther and farther, through parts of the
world She had never seen, never knew existed. They rose higher and higher with each

beat of the wing, and as they rose, suddenly Her will to live rose as well. She had created this Monster, so She must also fight it for Her very life. From deep within a courage built, it pushed against Her chest until it burst out of Her, a force so fierce it shattered the

black bird, scattering its ashes to the deep waters below. From somewhere in the

debris Her voice returned, caught up in Her throat where a song of celebration began

to echo through the hills and mountains. She flew and flew, Her wings free of

oppression, free of fear and malice, carried Her home to the nest of Her new self, full

of life and courage, security and contentment. She flew straight into the arms of Her

Daily Destiny, one that had been hidden for too long by the discarded remains of who

She once was.


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