I’m moved by birds—especially birds in plight. Birds are symbols of a sort of freedom I desire. To soar. To flit. To roam. To fly. Seeing any creature in pain is troubling, but particularly so for the birds. These winged-ones are specially equipped to escape danger. They can do what the rest of us can’t—just take off. So it shakes me to see them fall.
Turned the corner on the street today and walked into a dead pigeon. Freshly dead. He was soft and full looking and as yet unbothered by other creatures. So out of place, so wrong, this dead bird laid out on the sidewalk like a small pillow. The brick wall a couple feet away must have been the reason this snapshot of absurdity existed. Hitting brick walls in flight at break-neck speed will break your neck. Poor bird.
So many ways to go down—walls, deceptive glass, bigger birds, pellets and arrows, decoys, dogs, disease, a wind stronger then one’s wings…
Though flight has its advantages, I imagine, it seems to have its heartbreaks too. So here’s a little prayer for all the birds whose freedom is clipped, whose lives are short-lived, whose wings are damaged, who are ripped from the sky by outside forces—
Fly anyway
Fields and far-off branches beckon
Fly anyway
The predators pressure you and the weather threatens
Fly anyway
Barriers block the way
Fly anyway
Wings get tired
You’ve lost the nest
Fly anyway. Just fly, just fly today.
