Bird in the Sky

(C) Diana Gonzalez

To the bird at my window:
what do you see, when you fly
in the sky
what do you see?
bird in the sky, I
sometimes wonder why I taste
bird in the sky
my reason for living is most often my children
bird in the sky,
life is not alway pleasant and happy
life is not always cosmic rainbows and mystical daydreams, life
sometimes is unhappy
sometimes means
exchanging unpleasantries
bird in the sky
war is hell
bird in the sky
I often wish to be you
in the sky
Bird in the sky
if I paint you,
will I become you
bird in the sky
I paint you so I can become you
in the sky
seeing the world from a bird’s eye view
Often I dream about wings
bird in the sky
what separates me from you?
bird in the sky
is it the happiness I lack?
is it the sadness inside?
bird in the sky
what separates me from you
bird in the sky
I think it is
my humanness
tears I shed
the laughter sometimes
bird in the sky
are you sad sometimes?
do you tire of emulating the sounds of car alarms?
Bird in the sky
life is a broken mess on earth
bird in the sky
do you see the mess we’ve created for you?
bird in the sky
perhaps you see the mess we have made
perhaps you see the war we create
perhaps you see the fighting
and the ill words spoken
and the sadness
and the sometimes but not enough laughter
bird in the sky
it occurs to me that perhaps
am you
perhaps I have become you
and in speaking to myself
perhaps I have grown wings
bird in the sky
let me become you
let me live as you, in the sky
I shall, on my feet, travel with my daughters
tiny birds
and flee the hell that is life on earth.

Diana Gonzalez

Diana Gonzalez is a self taught artist, writer and poet, formerly known as The Craftaholic. Sometimes she likes to get crafty with her two kids and artist husband (whom often complains of having too much paint and yarn in the closets). You can visit her etsy store here

the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.” 

-Jack Kerouac

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