The Bluebird Poem by Emily Howard

Piercing and chilling is the Mocking Bird's first song,
Until hundreds of other birds join the throng
Shrilling and Singing their songs attract my gaze,
All of the birds, each and every one, can amaze.

Until like a knife the bullet cuts through the air,
And the Bluebird sings his last fanfare.
Falls, spiraling down,
Until, thunk, he softly hits the ground.

Then the birds, despite the mood and the weather,
Stick to their motto, "Birds stick together."
They fly to the ground, a colorful sight,
To hear the Bluebird's last song he sings with his might.

"I am a Bluebird, I symbolize endurance and joy,
And although I am very near my destroy,
I fall into my feeling of very merry cheer,
So here I lay, and I do not have fear."
And at this last word, the Bluebird closed his eyes,
And escaped from them one single tear.

The tear of the brave, the merry, the light.
Was shed on that one single sad night.
The Mockingbird swooped down from high on his perch,
Down from the tallest, strongest White Birch.

And as he flew,
The throng split apart.
Moving aside for the biggest of heart.
They scooted, they shuffled.
All chirping, but their sounds went muffled.
For just then came a song most heart-breaking,
They all doubted, thinking someone was faking.

Hundreds of bird heads swiveled around,
Over and about, towards the Mockingbird's sound.
The Mockingbird opened his beak, took a huge breath.
And sang a song, mourning for the death.
"I am a Bluebird, I symbolize endurance and joy,
And although I am very near my destroy,
I fall into my feeling of very merry cheer,
So here I lay, and I do not have fear."

He continued right on,
This time with only his own song.
"He is no more,
Though he lays here on the meadow floor.
In quite solitude,
Never did he say one word,
That could ever be mistaken for crude."

In this manner did he continue on,
Until sunset had long past gone.
The birds flew away, one by one,
Unable to change or make the event undone.
But through all the night the Mockingbird stayed.
Faithful to his friend, he sat and sang till the morning donkey brayed.

Even now, years after that night,
Sits the Mockingbird, singing, safe and out of sight,
So that he might keep his friend's character alive.
Singing about his cheerfulness, hoping for others to thrive,
He helps others feel the joy, the bravery, the fun,
Even when things cannot be undone.

So when you next hear a bird's sweet tune,
Think of how the Bluebird kept his spirits high, even when in ruin.
Think of the Mockingbird, his faithfulness to his mate.
Think of them both, optimistic to whatever the fate.

Strive to live like them,
Their optimism and perseverance,
Even when things look grim,
Keep your head up, it's all in the appearance.
The way you look at things,
Will you stay on the ground, flightless to all,
Because you are so afraid to fall?
Or will you stretch out and fly, the wind under your wings?