Free Bird
“The eagle flies with the dove. And if you can’t be with the one you love, honey love the one you’re with.” - Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young
1.
what it means to be a mother
it means, you breathe in every fragrance that surrounds you, hoping a second soul dreams of flowers it means, you immerse yourself in the sounds of a busy city, hoping a second soul remembers the cacophony it means, you see the world through an extra set of eyes, eyes that belong to someone who'll have no context of this sight it means, you care and you love and you cry for someone other than yourself it means, to be selfless to be empowered, to hold a hand over your aching heart and hear two heartbeats, one that resides inside, one that flies away.
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2.
finding an abandoned nest
you scoop up the baby bird into your cupped palms. it looks like a windswept city, waiting to be rescued from the harshness of a world that doesn't know what it means to be homeless and lost. you bring it home you give it the warmth of your body you give it the safety of your hands knowing what happens to baby birds who have no nest to fly back to you give it an identity so it no longer remains a lost soul that's how you save it by giving it warmth and safety and a name, but most importantly you give it the knowledge that even when you can't go back to your nest, sometimes you don't miss it, and it doesn't hold you back either.
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3.
breaking bread
what do you feed a baby bird? you ask your friends they, as usual, have varying answers milk, someone suggests, would be the best option all that calcium is bound to strengthen her bones, till she takes flight again green sprouts, soaked in water overnight someone else advices it will give her fibres and nutrients and we all know that's what every new-born needs diced carrots baby formula the options keep piling up but no one really tells you sometimes the best diet a lost bird can have is one of support and your healing touch no one tells you, but you figure it out all the same, as probably only you can
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4.
learning to fly
flying doesn't come easily to her she stumbles every time she tries her wings don't support her weight she flies blind into glass panes and table tops, you're scared she'll hurt herself eventually but you don't stop her, you don't put her in a cage and whisper this is for your own good instead, you prepare to tend to her pain when she hurts herself and encourage her every time she fails because you know how easy it is for us to forget the many times we had tripped and fell and cried, before we took our first steps.
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5.
voice
the baby bird doesn't break into songs that remind you of spring right away her voice is shrill like a whistle someone broke into half it's filled with fear it trembles like a prayer gone wrong it takes time for our bodies to ease into our voices it takes time for us to realise how powerful our words can be, when we learn to yield them the baby bird will slowly learn how to not hate the shrillness of her own calls and when she does you'll never hear anything that comes close to the sweetness of those songs she sings, for you.
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6.
bold of you to assume
bold of you to assume a relationship rests on the shoulders of giants that it has to be about gestures stolen from the guidebook to modern romancing, page 58 you never read a book before bringing the bird home safe to say neither did she yet, there is a relationship which exists one forged in a moment of loneliness in the middle of a warm day when she rests her feathery head on your weathered knuckles when she doesn't shriek as much as she did the first time you tried to feed her when she trusts you like she would her own lost mother
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7.
learning to fly (II)
she slowly unfurls her tiny wings they're still ruffled, but they quiver ever so slightly when the evening breeze rushes, to greet her longing for the skies she jumps around the house now tries to stay afloat mid-air, fails but doesn't lose hope that's how she'll learn the most important thing about flight: not the wind or wings but the hope she holds on to despite it all.
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8.
the first fight
i apologise but it's not enough you hold a grudge but it's not enough the bird hides its head under its wings at the arrival of another thunderstorm i tell you i didn't mean to be hurtful but it's not enough you say you believe me but it's not enough the bird dreams of a nest that will be impervious to the lashing winds and the howling rains a paradise made of twigs and fragility you forgive me eventually but it's not enough, some days i feel, nothing is.
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9.
the bad bird
wings thrice her size and claws which tear flesh to the bone, that's how you'll always describe the assailant a flash of impending darkness and a pain which spreads like fire across the body, the baby bird would've described the assailant if she could a bigger bird looking for prey, the neighbours say a balancing hand of nature, darwin would shrug but no matter how you describe it the fact remains, there was nothing we could've done that the fates already haven't
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10.
epilogue
we mourn. we grieve. we remember. we receive. death is never kinder. life doesn't stay. the nest remains empty. the bird flies away.
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Picture Courtesy:
All pictures have been sourced from Tumblr. The words are mine.
