When I was a young driver,
Fresh behind the wheel,
I saw a bird fly beneath a driver’s car
Ahead of me.
Her wings were broken
And her body badly damaged.
She flapped without hope
On the hot July street.
When I approached her,
I ran her over;
I cannot be sure
Accidentally or purposely.
I began to cry
And pray to St. Francis,
Poor little bird!
But I thought,
Does God see
The lonely pain of a bird
And the frailty of all creatures?
At that moment,
I became resolved
Every poem I wrote
Would be a prayer
For compassion.
So now, even if I write
About a gorgeous sunset
Or the enchantment of a woman’s eyes,
It really is a prayer for love and mercy
This is written with regret in mind and compassion in the heart. Well done.
without compassion the world's finished how glad I am to read this wonderful poem keep up the good work
Application For A Driving License Two birds loved in a flurry of red feathers like a burst cottonball, continuing while I drove over them. I am a good driver, nothing shocks me. Michael Ondaatje
I like this and see it as a metaphor for someone hurting someone in a relationship, not literally as a bird being run down.
The theme of this poem is lovely, but I would consider cutting stanza three. It may have happened just as you said, but it adds nothing to your lovely poem and the reader is left wondering whether you indeed did run over the bird. It is irrelevent, in my opinion. Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lovely. lovely. lovely.