[Calann]: 135.Poetry.The Gift of Wings

There are feathers in
your hand when you wake
and from somewhere afar you
can hear the song of beautiful
little birds, beckoning.
You want to join them.
A fluttering on the windowsill, now—
capture it in trembling
fingers and whisper
old memories into ears
that will transform your clumsy
human speech; new melodies
will be born out of your sorrow
and perhaps tomorrow
you will feel lighter.
For today, for now, you can hold the bird gently
fling it onto the sky
and smile.