Like Wild Birds Flying
The shadow falls as night arrives
like the kiss of death it blinds my eyes,
and in my mind the colors break
this blinding, innocuous life in wake,
a sound begins like distant bells
it chimes like time- my fear and hell,
and eyes still blind to what may come
I know the sound; its feathers drum.
The colors for a moment take
my mind from its insistent snake,
it slithers through my heart and hides
and from my dark depressions rise,
colors- like wild birds flying.
The night a trap, uncertainty wailing
I know my hearts a brittle, pale thing,
yet in the dark of sky and heart
I feel the feathers as they dash their marks,
of this sensuous life I forgot to remember
its sparks ignite like undying embers,
colors of life as it should have been
like a cold nights sweat, wide awake in a dream,
and the pain of the past sometimes shrill like a scream,
its sound- like wild birds flying.
"Don't go!" I cry out, but the dark fills me out
its prevalence still endless surrounds me,
I must wait for the day, when the light clears my way
and to life I'm availed by dear time.
But oh time I deplore, with its ravenous roar,
melting new into old, painting dark into cold,
to remind us that nothing can last!
Still I will watch for first light
when I can join life in flight,
and feel- like a wild bird, flying.
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