an unnecessarily sad poem about a Cardinal personified

twisting into a tumble
cardinal in thorn
in angry ravine
why so silent?
you are not invisible.

maybe you wish to be:
the dark forest,
holding you,
up lifting you 
towards the barren sky.
don't you have a home?
where do you lay your head?

maybe you fly,
on and on.
past the stream to the blanket
of moss that grounds you.
in search for seeds,
in search for roots,
will you ever settle?

maybe you are done calling,
with no one to listen on this 
quiet evening in the shortest month.
the longest distance,
from whom you love.
but i will listen now.

maybe this staring contest,
is but looking in the mirror?
into the mass of limbs,
do you smell the rain?
sir it is all but here.

maybe you are mourning.
the carnage of day light,
and your wings soaring,
but only temporarily.
and your eyes flitter.
and I wonder if you are weeping.
are you keeping track of my tears?
do you hear me?
you call my name.
and you fly away.




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