Treasure Island

Claudia Krizay

(1/28/1956 / Washington DC)

Birds


As etched across an Asian screen,
In a myriad of colors
Before the sun, they were, ,
Though hardly muted, the
Birds, some, darkening and starkly portrayed
Against the sky past midnight
Circled about, but most
Appeared as a
Conglomeration before
The sea where
The sun seemed to be falling?
Could anyone believe that
They would ever find their lost souls
Within the thicket that had formed?
They were, red, black, yellow,
Natural colors of some obscure place,
Blending into the blueness of the
Ocean in front of which they
Darted erratically about screaming as in
The myth of the Sirens,
Or was it from some tale in the Odyssey?
How they were terrorized
When they finally came together to kill?
Blending into one another
Their blood obliterated the sun as the
Gulls called and the crows cawed,
They were all crying because they existed without a purpose?
They were all dead and falling,
Dead and falling,
As with the hearts and souls of little children,
They had no recourse,
There was no turning back, and their lives were over.
With nowhere to go,
They just fell dead into the sea,
Remorseful,
For they had just killed one another-
Severed from their once lithe spirits,
Young, pristine, and free and left
Unbound - for
All was just too much of an allusion?

Submitted: Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Edited: Wednesday, August 24, 2011

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