A blackbird

A Story by david

A blackbird on my shoulder, I walked through the forest. And though the sun was shining somewhere up above, the forest was dark and silent.

The blackbird asked me, “Who are you, wanderer?”

I answered him, “I am a son, I am a brother, I am a teacher, I am a student, and I am a traveler - I travel this dark land seeking the hidden fruit. And I am none of these.”

“You are, while you are not. Where are you from?” he asked again.

“I am the stars and the moon. I am the sun-struck sky. I am formed from the dirt; I am the mud that dirties everything; I am man.”

Silence followed as we walked through the forest and into the marshes, and the owl on my shoulder asked me, “Who are you?”

And I said, “I am fire and bone. I walk these wetlands because I can, and I fashion my own trail.”

“You are a liar. I asked: who are you?” he said, anger in his voice.

“I am the beginning and I am the end, I am the creator and the corrector. I the mystic, the aged scholar, the jester and the blind soothsayer.”

He did not respond and we walked on.

We traveled up the mountain that leads to the top of the world. I saw everything below us and I said, “They look so small from up so high.”

And the hawk on my shoulder tensed his talons and made my arm hurt and bleed. And we both surveyed the world as kings, and we called out to it as hunters. We shrieked war cries until our stomachs hurt.

The top of the mountain was cold beyond bearing, so my bird and I started to make our way down. No life could survive for very long at the height we were at. Toward the base of the mountain we found animals that had wandered too far, now dead and dried up by desert winds. And as we looked over the endless sand dunes before us, I realized that I was very hungry and tired.

A serpent slid up my back and across my shoulders, wrapping around my parched throat, whispering into my ear, “Who are you?”

And I said to him, “I am a man thirsty and without water, I am a man hungry and without food, I am an animal without a shelter, and a traveler without a bed.”

And the snake gently caressed my weak frame, winding around my entire body. With his slithering voice he told me, “Know that I love you; this is for your own good.”

His spiteful face came down upon my cheek and his searing poison mingled with my blood. Smoldering and bubbling, my flesh was scorched from the inside out. I lay dying there for days, a burnt match upon the desert sands. I thought of nothing but skinning that serpent.

I traveled in and out of nasty dreams, delirious and utterly alone. When I woke days later, the vulture came to me and stood over me, looking deep into my eyes. Empty sockets stared back at me. “I know who you are,” he said, bleakly.

Bravely I said, “I have been called by many names. I have traveled many countries. I have lived through birds like you, and I know who you are too.”

“Yes,” he said, “you know me well. I am that thing often called life that should rather be called death. I am the blackbird, and the owl, and the hawk, and the serpent. I am the only true companion you will ever have. What does that make you?”

I considered this as I lay dying, and the great crow stood watch over me. And when I was done darkly thinking I stared at the crow, but he did not move. I reached out to feel his smooth glossy feathers, but he did not twitch. So I sat up slowly and swiftly grabbed him by the neck. I twisted my arms fiercely until I heard his spine snap.

But he did not squirm at all. Inside of his sleek black body I found golden manna for eating, and I ate my fill.

Dead bird clutched at my side, I walked to the edge of the desert. I went among the people and one of them, just starting on his journey, asked me, “Sir, who are you?”

I looked deep into his wonderful eyes and saw his newborn soul - though he did not see mine - and I told him, “Truly, I am nothing. Truly, I am you.”