Monday, March 23, 2009

The Dark Bird



There is a great dark bird

And its feathers are made

Of every day

When love was scarce

And safe was just a steely locked place to hide my heart in.


The dark bird's oldest feathers

Are rooted deepest.

They are named:

Violence

Loneliness

Neglect

Cruelty

And isolation.


Always, when I feel worst,

I know the dark bird is there, like a curse,

An anti-mother,

Whose obsidian heart does not beat at all.

And me?

I am her baby.

God have mercy.


One moment, I may be laughing with a lover in bed,

And the next,

I find she is sister to the dark bird,

And I wish I was dead.


Alcohol

Cocaine

Sex

Religion

Eating

Not eating

Doing the right thing

Doing the wrong thing

Doing anything

Just to keep the dark bird away.


Listen, friend,

I know the dark bird.

She has spread her wings across and above me

Like an un-sun.

She has left her mark across my heart,

And she has called me her child,

Though I fight

Though I run.


Be stealthy,

Be respectful, as if you were entering a church.

And if you find me laughing,

If I say to you, I love you,

You're beautiful,

Stay with me...

There is no need for reproach.


Soon enough,

My own raised and forgetful voice,

The very noise of my own momentary happiness,

Will wake the bird

And she will carry off hope in her talons

Which are called:

Defeat.

Despair.

Perdition.

_________


19 comments:

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

I am here by way of Joaquin's place. I have been perusing your blog and am impressed by your intuitive poetry. You are creative and interesting. I'll visit again.

There is a great dark bird
And its feathers are made
Of every day
When love was scarce
And safe was just a steely locked place to hide my heart in.

Gorgeously poetic and wordworthy!

T said...

I get another story from this that can go in so many directions! Very poetic and deep.

I wish I knew how you do this. How you can come up with the perfect words, that often times I can relate to.

Once again, I had to read this 4 times, before commenting, it is so surreal.

Riot Kitty said...

The witch of words! I love it! Although I very much doubt you are a bruja ;)

Pouty Lips said...

I had to read this several times to see if you really did what I thought you did. After careful reading I see that you did name the dark bird's talons the most hopeless names I can think of. I hail you but you've got me crying again. Interestingly, this reminds me of my childhood.

Debbie said...

I won't claim to be intelligent enough to always understand your work but I always find it mesmerizing and beautiful.

kim said...

Oh, I know that bird. Wish it would nest elsewhere -- hate that bird.

From one sober person to another, I don't think it should go without mentioning that my word verification is "coffe" .

Scarlet said...

Fly on, proud bird...let her be free.

In some way I think every one of us can relate to this poem. Nice job, and the photo...perfect! ;)

Daryl said...

Not going to analyze .. just go with the flow of images I see when I read your verse

Mama Zen said...

It takes a tremendous amount of beauty to rob me of any kind of smart ass response. This did.

Fireblossom said...

Hello, KLG! Welcome to Word Garden. I hope you'll visit again soon. :-)

I keep telling you, T, my dog dictates the poems to me, I just type them out. ;-)

Well, that broom over there isn't for sweeping the cobwebs, RK! That's my ride! ;-)

Thanks, Pouty, for your always careful readings of my poems. it means a lot.

Hi Debbie! it's always a pleasure to see that you have visited. :-)

Hi Kim! Yes, shoo bird. Laffin @ "coffe"...how appropriate!

Glad you like the poem and pic, Scarlet. I was going through some pix of myself that i had squirreled away, and I came across that one. It seemed fitting, here. :-)

Daryl, Miss Visual. ;-)

Wow, I'm humbled by that comment, Mama Zen. I almost feel that I have upset the natural order. ;-)

Jannie Funster said...

Clean & Sober for a long, long time now.

And the dark bird has yet to take her finest flights, where the air will be calm and stable and each day a slab of marble as smooth as any sea that's ever been sailed.

Pete said...

Not sure which whispered the loudest,
the image or the poem
great post
.

Jannie Funster said...

Shit! Was I too late to this party!?
xo

floreta said...

here thru daryl's recommendation and i love it!! +1 for playing tori amos! your words are splendid..

Shadow said...

oh this dark bird is everywhere it seems. few, however, can put it as well as you have here, well done.

and i'm greatly distressed by your comment... i've been here, and read and commented, but it seems i've been writing with invisible ink... they've disappeared? maybe haning in cyberspace somewhere over the atlantic ocean. ah, whatever, rest assured i'm still here, i love your beautiful garden of words...

Zerilda The Superfluous Blogger said...

you see now this is exactly why i'm not a birdwatcher. it's too dangerous.

i know. very disappointing. took me two DAYS to come up with that comment. you'd think i could do better.

[the serious bit is here : ]
i still just like reading the lines "And its feathers are made
Of every day"
[end serious bit]

and i also love that the word verification is 'conaraph' which is, i think, fitting.

Gillian said...

You need to pluck that dark bird and roast it up. Serve with jacket potatoes and sour cream.

No need for a bird like that to stifle the one you really are.

Eh?

kimmirich said...

Again, another awesome poem.

La Belette Rouge said...

I am breathless. I know that bird and I know all the ways to try and keep her at bay. She is an eater of joys and she feathers her nest with our hope. Oh, sweet you, that bitch of a bird may take your joy but she cannot take your talent or words. I give the bird the bird. Actually, I flip it the double bird. Fly away bird...go and play with the black dog.
Beautiful, FB. Thank you for the link.
xoxo