That Bird Of Hope Poem by Justin Houseman

The evanescent bird pecks at my eyes,
Spinning and spinning till I follow,
As a gauche boy, just a boy once
Wanting toys. I may just be a boy,

A real boy! Not Pinnocchio. I cut
The puppeteer’s strings long ago,
Snipped ‘em like a rosebud of youth
Off its stem. How the rose kept growing!

I found a rose today, it sings to me. The bird
No longer pecks at my heart but sings, and
I can hear it, I can hear it cheering, peeping,
Chirping for my heart that flutters. My head

Sputters like a worn old truck, losing
Power, losing life, somehow forcing life,
Trying onward for so long, no matter the
Number of wounds from stabbing nails.

Just when I think that bird of hope
Is gone, he bores into my chest again,
Flapping wings in my heart and roses in
My head. All I know is the roses for wings.

That happy bird has roses for wings, and
It sings, it sings, only to me. And I, I do
Confess (what a mess!) I have become
A lover. I owe that bird of hope my heart.