A bird shot of the sky
A single bullet pierced its heart
It went down in flames
like a firefly
It rested on the last rock of a cliff
The cliff falls apart
The body descends into
The void of what is below
In the robes of night
The darkness of the unknown
The little bird makes its coffin
And rest assured
There is no more flying
There no more bullets
There is no more rising
There is no more falling
There is no more of anything
No more anymore
There is only the charred remains.
A bird shot of the sky
A single bullet pierced its heart
The farmers are laughing in joy
They awaits its arrival on land
Through the layers of air
It descends
Like the history
It bears in its bones
Another tragedy of time
Another tragedy of now
Another tragedy of what was
Another tragedy of who we are
Another tragedy
That is all
The shot bird is
For no food its chaired remains
Can make.
That is all there is
That is all there was
That is all there will be
There is only the charred remains
And the empty laughter of hungry farmers
Who awaits.
November 25, 2015
