Imagine with me, a concrete feathered bird.
He stands on two legs looking up
at the other birds flying through the air,
landing on telephone wires, leaping off and soaring.
Now, this bird often runs to the edge of the hill –
flaps his cumbersome wings as hard as he can,
and hopes beyond hope that today will be different from all the
other days – only to realize … that it’s not.
A bird that cannot fly? Woe is the day.
Better not to live than to continue on like this.
The little bird cannot bear to keep going with
such a great burden bringing him down.
But one morning, the concrete feathered bird hears something.
It’s the tune of a songbird.
It fills the concrete feathered bird with wonder –
and he decides to mimic it.
The next day he wakes up and practices again.
Day after day he sings the beautiful song
from the ground and watches
his feathered brethren dance through the skies.
It has been months that the concrete feathered bird has been singing.
The other birds start to leave their church steeple perches,
to circle him on the ground and listen.
They love to hear him sing.
I am that concrete feathered bird
and while I have had flight stripped from me –
and watched from the ground in silence for years –
You will know my song.