I hear your cry, do you hear mine?
A mating call before you fall, your holla never heard.
My moaning bird,
One by one, I’ll count your feathers.
Let me try to make it better.
Can I kiss your scars?
I want to give you what you’re needing
Use my heart to staunch the bleeding
And for your broken wing, my arms will be the sling
Where you go, I go, even due south
Borrow my breath, mouth to mouth
Resuscitation
A flock to ourselves, a murmuration
Just us two in our love nest
Hide in my love, take your rest
Till you’re ready to fly again
Fly into my arms,
A safe arrival, a sure survival, a glorious revival
Then we’ll leave this nest together
Two birds, we’ll soar above the past behind us
A path we can’t un-fly
A death we can’t un-die
But we ain’t at death’s door
Nah, it’s time to leave.
Our hearts can do the impossible
Do you believe?
Then fly, my love! Soar!
My pretty bird, fly with me and cry no more.
I read it again and then again. Each time through, the words find spots inside me that need soothing. I finish storing the other pages in the drawer, but can’t make myself let “Pretty Bird” go. The sheer vulnerability of it, the need and love infuse every line. I’m about to call Grip, to ask him to come home, when I hear a muffled sound from the living room. I let the sound lead me, and my heart finds new ways to break when I see my husband, seated on the floor, back to the couch with his head in his hands, shaking with sobs.
I hear your cry, do you hear mine?