CC Issue 49 / Literature

Fallen Feathers

I pulled a box closer, grabbed hold of the flaps

“Wait!” thought the wing-broken bird when it opened

but there in the corner it trembled, it begged

for some kind of solace or rescue or way

to fly out of the box in front of my face

to show me its pain without leaving a trace

No, not just any pain, no, not just any—

There was more in the box: a bracelet, some keys,

a coffee stain under the feathers that fell

when the bird tried, yet failed, to cheep chirp for help

The failure was due to shoddy reception,

the kind that spoke only frowns and rejection

I reached in and fondled the feathers that fell

gathered them, placed them inside my large conch shell,

then the colors of courage started to drip

from that sad broken wing—what beauty, what grace!

All changes begun in a color-filled whirl

to nudge the bird out into wide open space

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