The Birdladies Tale Poem by Joseph White

The Birdladies Tale



Her heart is like a bird nest
the hair on her hear is as feathers of the albatross
she spents nights in a homeless shelter
and tells her stories of sagittarius and capricorn
to no one in particular

She alludes to the pen and ink scribed tale
of the north facing cross on the cold grassy hill
where gulls no longer cry at the ears of dead men's
bones picked clean by crow-ghosts of their pasts,
long pasts and forever now

Looking at the wind tossed sea
from the hill of the dead
the shore beckoned to her
with crashing waves and
her salty lips kissed a vacant scallop shell

The chalise was full of wine
on her table and she drank it all
on that wind swept shore
turning toward home she was left wanting
no one is home and she knew it

She thought, where can I travel
to find those who loved me in youth
her mouth was down-turned
in sorrow and loss knowing
it was not an easy journey

The birds in her heart and hair
fled her and alit in the fig tree
now her heart is stony and her hair is gray
the trees hold her former life
in it's boughs

She will become a bird
when at death's door
she will meet the keeper of salty air
to wet her lips again on the wine
of life with callers and friends watching

Just a tale told to the downtrodden
at the shelter laying in small cots
pulled close allowing many
to sleep in warmth and safety
only to hit the street with the sun

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success