The Tree From Which Robins Sing (For Sariah)

This is me in here
trapped, tragic and tearing
out life in words
worlds whittled
out from sadness
out into the dark from light
out from my hand
out like a melody
from the tree
from which robins sing.

I speak the language of birds
harmony in my happiness
when I am alone always
beneath the tree
fielded and frankly forgotten
with no other human in sight
I can breathe
breathe out dreams
and this is me this is really

In a moment all at once
all together the birds
leave on impulse
a unified cluster arcing over the
wide wondering blue
shimmering singing
painting my sky with wings
powering through the air
cutting like a
whispering wind
and I laugh and take joy
as in a moment I realize
that this is the sound of
and if he smiles at all
then this is him


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