A Dead Birds Feather Offers Comfort To A Young Boy Poem by Not Long Left
A Dead Birds Feather Offers Comfort To A Young Boy
A broken battered bird
limp winged and misty eyed
Nestled itself in the bed
of the grass.
Its dry sagging tounge
lay bare and burning under
the unforgiving sun.
Its wings moved ever so
slightly, strained and pained.
Grounded it just lay there,
accepting death,
waiting silently in the grass.
Its feathers blowing in the
wind.
From my window
I watched the slow death,
as it faded away with each
slow patient breath.
I wanted to do something,
wanted to give back its flight.
Watching death is different
from watching life,
This death seemed so peaceful.
Later that day, after the bird
had finally passed away.
I buried it beside the pet
rabbit, and fish.
gave it a little cross,
made from a cereal packet,
as my little boy
cried.
He nows sleeps with its feather
under his pillow.
Even in death
comfort can be found.
Very nicely written, great imagery and a subtle yet effective message about the tenderness of even the smallest life. My daughter also had a 'graveyard' in our yard for all the little critters we tried to nurse back to health. This brought back memories- well done! - TGR
Very well spoken. It's really funny how we and a bird have so much in common. We don't realise how much it means to us before its gone... Devang Gandhi
Here's to you and your little boy for paying the birdie such great homage. And yeah, that 'watching death is different than watching life' line stuck on me as well. Serene, sombre, and sad piece of writing. Fond regards, Gina.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 8:32:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
this poem made me angry for the obvious reason because you did not do anything for the little bird. how could you be so insensitive?