Our life is but half a life
death is the remainder
the hope of love smothered by the smell
of tossed oil rags clings heavy in the sky
unable to breathe
no one to call for help
and across the roads the towns
thousands of muddy bayous scream
to wake the Earth
the birds try to escape knowing many will fail
yet they carry pieces of their nests
the bark of trees their eggs torn feathers and their cries
the smashed sunflower the naked old stone
the dirt we played with as children
still hear far away
the torn sounds of the hearts of birds
and my grandparents and my mother walking as fast
as they can from the burning city
whisper to the birds
to send them hope
the birds grateful
throw a few crumbs of old bread
and instruct them
to follow
no matter the odds
the sorrow the midnight bleeding
or the taste of devastation
in the sky
Grey Sparrow Journal 