Solitary Confinement

If we don’t make it,

I hope the birds inherit the earth.

Great big flocks of them;

all colors, a celebration of

their own resilience in front

of their own pandemic

of unchecked human expansion.

May they carry seeds and fishes

and reclaim what we selfishly

took and took and took;

centuries of entitlement;

decades of “not my problem.”

May ducks dive in clear waters;

may sparrows sing

from abandoned WalMart

warehouses; may warblers

return to public spaces

where horns don’t blare. May

a renewed sensitivity awaken

in our children; may they

paint denizens of the sky

again in artwork

and make dishes and lamps

in their likeness; in the 18^th

century we spent time outdoors

seeing God’s grace in a swallow’s

wing, a falcon’s dive;

visual expression of man’s

desire for remembrance

in solitary confinement.

 

 

Author's Note

picture is mine

Reviews

[Vertigo Cat1111]

This is an absolutely breathtaking, beautiful poem. The birds inheriting the world, and singing in abandoned areas... amazingly genius and gorgeous, and one of my favorite poems on this site. And just the message here is so smart. I loved this.