Before, Again, We Fly

Shadows stroking struts of land
Which emote not to our plans.
“I see a world that has no end”,
Is a damned, prophetic message to send.

Clapping and yapping where
Birds’ beaks are snapping at waves
Where we learned how to fly.

We are sensitive souls
Once you’ve bored through the holes
Where the blackness pours ‘til it’s dry.

Our bellies rumble around timeless scraps
Found cast away with no elapse.
Our throats are lumpen without tears;
Souls lasting for thousands of years.

Coloured plumage: red, white and blue,
Matches the rummaged, gathered shards:
Scraps of a life, forever unknown,
If we even live to be full grown.

The wind rushes with calls, alight
With grief and sadness in frenzied flight.
“Who shall curse their wanton plight?
For which of them will you stand and fight?”

#365DaysOfPoetry