Kitten’s Sparrow Mourns

05:34 AM. Tuesday.

The morning bird released his wings like a sail

And crooned are deep mournful ballad. He will

Always be mourning in the morning. This is the

Daily ritual that sees a reason for living. When

The sparrow stands on his beach and sees a great

Rumbling ocean, a peacock, he knows that there

Is greater power within him- the one who can fly.

The flowers by the seaside, disguised by tall grasses

And bathed in the lingering cloak of fog, see what is

Not right and they see what is. And they see a small

Child rumbling towards the sparrow, eyeing the peacock.

Sparrow sense danger, but Peacock sees only a time to play.

06:00 AM. Tuesday.

I hear birds singing as always

And for the first time I wonder,

Asking myself what it could be

That makes the sparrow so sad-

Why does he fancy himself as a

Shakespearean hero, doomed for

Death at the hands of his great flaw

Because his gods grant him no mercy?

Why then does he find hope and in

The sake of hope know that what he

Holds is not hope? Why sing and mourn?

I wonder about the sparrow today.

10:37 PM. Tuesday.

On the midnight evening of 1935

When I walked alone, following

In the lost and guided footsteps

Of my ticking heart, as she told

Her tales, she recalled the disease

And the curses of years long passed

By and by visiting her prior lifetime.

There was, for once, no one by my

Side- ’twas just me and my heart

Flowing through the black faceless

Figures swarming by in throngs

Soundlessly and oh so loud, they

Moved about. Some in finery and some

Wearing nothing at all, the ghosts

Came to me, went by me, and through me

They passed with the ease of one too sure

Because They saw in me what I could not

See in them- weakness. All alone, I walked

On that fated midnight evening in 1935.

*All photos are my own.

Thank you for reading, as I know my posts have been unusually light these past few weeks. I’ll be back to my regular amount of new stories and poetry next week, but in the meantime, here’s something inspired by the beach.

…BRD…

I write poetry, prose, and personal pieces. All images are mine unless indicated otherwise. Feel free to leave feedback on my work anytime; I hope you enjoy.

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