The Bird

October 29, 2020

The bird quickly rapped

Against the window, hard,

The azure pane, that false pane.

At least, that’s what others

Told me—I wasn’t

There.

 

When I made it

Outside to see if

It still lived, still moved

And had its being,

Sure—it was still

Moving.

 

But not the right way:

Pitching and striving,

Trying to breathe, gasping

With its wings snapping back,

Its eyes—dark, staring

Upward.

 

Finally, it went still,

The head just to the side, eye

Half open, a black little coal

That suddenly ceased to glow.

I, alone—I must have been

The last

 

Person the bird ever saw

Before it passed onward for

Its final flight. And as I took

It up, its empty form lolling

In my palm—I felt God follow

The funeral

 

Procession to the edge of the yard,

To where the wild started, where

God’s grace cares for the lowly sparrow

In spite of storms, in spite of terrors.

In my heart, the sparrow falls—and now

I’m here.

4 Comments

  1. Scott Brennan

    Somber, yet not without grace, gently reminding the reader “not one sparrow falls without the Father.” We are so loved. Amen.

    Reply
    • Graham Jackson

      Thanks, Scott! Amen and amen.

  2. Bethany

    Ooh, I really like the free verse style here. The poem tells a story and evokes emotion in so few words–great job!

    Reply
    • Graham Jackson

      Thanks Bethany! When I saw the bird hit that window, its story likewise hit me.

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