Little Swan Poem by Carlos Gutierrez

Tinted with discord,
Is the voice of the people.


Little Swan approaches Swan Lake,
His petite little head is gazing down.

His wings are missing!
He said they were clipped off and sold to the merchant in town.

He has wandered off to the Forbidden City,
He didn't listen, so unusual of him.

He wanders idly around this pond,
Not longer able to fly, he is forced to swim.

He holds onto life,
As branches hold on to leaves.
Fallen berries and baby egg fish,
Sustain his diminishing heartbeat.

He is engulfed by torment and shame,
And his eyes seem to permanently search the ground.

He helplessly watches the other swans take off,
As winter begins and arrives.

He is given no other option but to stay behind,
For he cannot, ever again, touch the freedom sky.

Little Swan's heartbeat is barely audible,
A sign that he is letting go.
No more pain, no more sorrow,
His tiny heart will ever show.

Spring nonchalantly returns,
And with it, the alabaster swans.

Something has changed,
They feel it in their feathers and their inside hair.

Suddenly, they know,
They know that Little Swan is gone.

They search and search,
But Little Swan,

Is nowhere to be found...

They seek a trail and even the most minuscule of clues,
But eventually they fail at their hopeless attempt.

All the swans can ever do,
Is hope that he has found relief.

This could've been avoided, you know,
Everything could've been the same.

If only Little Swan would have seen the danger,
And stayed away.

Because...


Tinted with discord,
Is the voice of the people.