We Flew to Anwoth Kirk

We Flew to Anwoth Kirk

by jeremy wyatt

A tiny speck, growing fast,
so straight, direct that it must be
the first it took, and now its last.
Sobered, sad, feeling bad for riding
like a maniac, and hiding my eyes
from accusing skies.

Empty accusing skies.

The rub comes, as it always does.
with shock and dread.
Taking my helmet from my head.
It is there.
On me.
Neck broke.
Dead.
Sweet.
Young.
Complete.
Dead complete.

Pushed between  my legs
and tank, unseen and thank
my lucky stars that mother birds
don't stand accusing of their loss.
It's bill, still with the bright,
that makes both of its parents fight
to feed unruly chicks
and guard them in a nest of sticks.

So find a bag to wrap it in,
shed quiet tears,
for this new sin.
Glance quickly past
the stinking summer bin.
Rotten with sloth and waste,
and life gone bad.

Where ?
Somewhere that will care.
For a new soul taken,
a wee heart broken.
Sorrow unspoken.

Anwoth,
whispers, down among the stones,
Plants crown the walls,
and, in summer glory
the voices of the dead
gently talk.

Just listen.
They need you.
To hear.

Anwoth,
if you take a look,
hidden in the quiet,
beneath an evergreen.
Beneath THE evergreen.
  a  stone that says.

A Baby Bird.

I read He marks the sparrows fall,
so should We  all.

This happened late  june 2010. At the time I made it into a bit of a jokey story to try and deal with feelings it all stirred up.
I felt so terrible,  killing a small sweet thing because doing 100 miles an hour on a motorcycle matters.
There are graves that pour sorrow out to you, there at Anwoth, and some that speak quiet,  but make you feel strong.  There is no darkness there at all.
I dream of dying  in the road, as a result of a big night time bike smash.
Probably deserve it, hope it's quick as the poor bird!

Dec 16, 2010

Author's Note

An oldie, the big bike is long gone and the wee bird's grave is fine and undisturbed

Reviews

[Judy Ponceby]

You have the soul of a saint jeremy. And the heart of an angel. You have much work to do here, don't wish for accidents. They never end the way you think they will. This was a very heartfelt moving piece of writing. Well done.