Again To Fly

The snow lay dead against the leafless tree

Which once bore fruit but brittle gray now stood.

The clouded sun by only slight degree

Bestowed a yellow hue upon the wood.

Below the boughs there sat a faded bird

Who once had flown but now stayed grounded here

And who had nothing seen and nothing heard

Beyond the barren field she held so dear.

In silence huddled 'gainst the lonely cold,

She chanced to cast her gaze out to the east,

And through the mist a bright white light, behold!

Yet swift reclaimed by mist, the light had ceased.

Such sudden, blinding brightness shocked the bird

And beckoned, yet repulsed, for how could she

Leave all that she had known, her home, for blurred,

Uncertain fate and future, impossible to see?

    Said she: I've not felt warmth for far too long.

    It's time; this ruin I will not prolong.

A burst of heat and a cataclysmic screech

As flames erupted 'round the bird, snatched

Her dull feathers and tore the flesh beneath.

She collapsed onto the ground, too pained to move,

As fire spread, crackling, biting, tearing,

And claimed the old, deadened tree, claimed

The shrubs, the weeds, the hard-packed earth. The smoke

And ash filled the air and filled her eyes

As the bird lay broken in the heat and pain.

When at last the flames subsided and the bird awoke,

Soot and ash falling from her head as she rose,

She surveyed an alien wasteland filled with smoke

And the blackened skeletons of what once had been home,

And she wondered if it had not been better to stay

In the old, comfortable ruin and never to know these foreign woes.

With a great sigh, she stood and began to roam

Towards the east, where the faint hope of light lay.

Ash and darkness seemed to reign,

Yet as she walked the smoke grew thinner,

As she walked the light grew brighter,

And despair began to wane.

Stepping through the choking veil,

She spread her lustrous wings and smiled,

Breathed the air, bright green and mild,

Again to fly and to prevail.