The Bird Chose Wrong

Airtight
vacuum-packed lungs.
Skin tugged and taut over rigid pillars of bone.
Branches shriveled and dry from the
raging conflagration of an untamed mind.
In the midst: a caged bird.
Dodging falling tree limbs.
Singing, but mute.
Fluttering, but trapped.

Fight or flight, little bird.
Pick your poison.
There isn’t much time. The cage is closing in. Quickly!

Enter in, little capsule.
Unlock the cage. Quickly! Quickly!
Lay bare the thoracic cavity and let your life breath enter in.
You are night guard, watchman, sole key-holder.
Set the bird free.
Let her disappear for a while.
Wake her up once the fire’s died down.
And then, please leave. Don’t come back.

Sometimes flying away is okay, little bird.
Just for the moment, anyway.
The key is not to drift away.
Just float a moment —
the water is fine!
Let the sun penetrate your ruffled feathers.
Let the sea salt mist your cheeks and understand
that it isn’t your tears.
You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay…

But the bird drifted away.