Broken Wing
Broken Wing
Creature, black,
feathered kind,
stealthy, deft,
on ledge did find,
hid in fear
behind broken wing
he did not fly
nor song did sing.
Window, sashed,
did open wide,
blackbird trembling,
brought inside,
wing did strap
with stick and lint,
that brought to eye
a grateful glint.
On wrist did sit,
tipped back head,
on bread and milk
with finger fed,
for many days
did tend him well
until he told me
how he fell.
Did trap himself
in poachers snare,
meant for rabbit,
meant for hare,
his life to end
was soon to be
so broke own wing
to set self free.
In panic flew,
so high, so fast,
did crash into
invisible glass,
could not sing
nor fly again,
did think to die
on window pane.
To blackbird said
" we built a city,
for those who fly
and crawl, no pity,
with traps and glass,
bombs and guns
we break the wings
of our little ones"
His head did drop
to cry in sadness,
to live and die
at the whim of madness,
then sat on sill
to grieve the view,
did close the window
and away he flew.
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