The Daisy - Poem by Juan Olivarez
One christmas morning a long time ago,
I opened a present that I wanted so.
It was a daisy a real western gun,
I was delirious, what a barrel of fun.
I ran to the back yard and set up some cans,
It was a real gun I held in my hands,
I was proficient right from the start,
I shot all those cans straight through the heart.
But it became boring, to a young boy of eight,
And a bigger challenge, needed I on my plate.
So I walked through the woods pot-shooting at things,
I made so many birds take to their wings.
Till finally in a clearing I saw in a tree,
A mockingbird singing, looking at me.
I stepped up to the plate, and pointed my gun,
At the sweet singing bird it was only in fun.
I squeezed off a shot, and I saw the bird fall,
Straight to the ground like a batted curve ball.
I ran to the spot, and I looked at the bird,
That was looking at me though his heart had been burst.
I picked him up, and he died by that tree,
And I think he was saying what happened to me?
My soul filled then, with a sorrow so great,
And standing there crying my soul filled with hate,
Hate for the thing, I had just done,
By shooting that bird, with my new b.b. gun.
Hate for myself, for the sole sake of hate,
Because i'd taken a life that was not mine to take.
I think long ago I came to see,
That all creatures matter, to him that made me.
He is the one that gave us this gift,
And it's for him to take it, when he sees fit.
4/23/10 29 palms ca.
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