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.
Dwelling deep in the forests of New England, Graham spends most of his time reading, taking walks with his dog, and learning new and interesting things (and reveling in cooler, more temperate climates). Born and raised in the Boston area, Graham was homeschooled from an early age. After high school, he proceeded to get a bachelor’s in Literature from Patrick Henry College in Northern Virginia. He currently resides in the Boston area while pursuing a master’s in Education at Gordon College, steeping in the rich history of his home turf and a continued exploration of literature from across the world. He says you should read Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country and Chaim Potok’s The Chosen, because they are incredible novels. Also, read Robert Frost.
Somber, yet not without grace, gently reminding the reader “not one sparrow falls without the Father.” We are so loved. Amen.
Thanks, Scott! Amen and amen.
Ooh, I really like the free verse style here. The poem tells a story and evokes emotion in so few words–great job!
Thanks Bethany! When I saw the bird hit that window, its story likewise hit me.