Wherefore the Little Things That Appear, But to Take Notice of Them
Say “Hello” to the Bird That Now Flies By You
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Whenever the songbird tweets,
Whistles, or sings its full song,
Live in its utterances.
Heed the variation in its actions.
You may soon find yourself locked in remembrance
Of your descendants
Who trod down, ran on, and hiked
Through certain terrain, for they so desperately had wanted
To taste (at the very least) freedom.
Join them in empathy,
But more importantly, greet
The bird
That now flies by you.
The bird,
Perched upon its favorite tree branch,
Sitting cozily up against its offspring that lie in its nest,
And having once risen to bestow the early worm,
Now settles in its relaxation.
Recall “their” exaltation as soon as war bore
A milestone in their liberation,
When policy officialized the fruits of their hard efforts.
Imagine the sweet taste of a freedom initially seized.
Join them in empathy,
But don’t forget to say “hello” to
The bird
That now flies by you.
The day’s close has approached.
The bird
Drifts off to sleep,
And it sleeps with anticipation of another day,
A day that is not necessarily guaranteed, but one
During which
The bird will whistle once more and
Once more—without ceasing.
Because conditions fluctuate,
They never do know to stay still,
And neither does “the right” that
Too often juxtaposes “deprived of”.
So, if not count on external forces,
At least count on you to make things right.
Yet, do stop to acknowledge
The bird
That now flies by you.
For with every greeting, you become
Acquainted with a constant reminder of what is possible,
Become a consistent witness to lost truths,
And confirm what is and what was
And affirm what will be.
You give
That bird
Company that maybe it didn’t know it needed
Until now.
/*Inspired story: Popular Folktales*/
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