The Breach

A Poem by Paris Hlad

The Breach

(Or The Fall of a Sparrow)

U

The pelicans are gliding now
Above the surf, as willets bow

And take the creatures of the sand,
As sanderlings race down the strand

The plovers flutter in a crèche

But like a thing
That is one flesh,

They rise into the windy air
And fly unto, I know not where

The tide is high and loud, and white
And clears the footprints of the night;

The sun is trembling on the lip
Of where the waters rise and dip

II

A songbird falls upon the heath
Amid the rockweed at my feet;

And I am stranded in a place
Between the sea and sudden grace

All things suggest calamity,
Except that she is here with me!

For though she waits upon my will,

I have God’s mercy to fulfill

I must not leave -

I shall not go!

Yet I may do no more than know
What outcome may befall this chance
That joins our lives in circumstance

III

I stay with her
As she may die
Or rise in glory
To the sky!

I guard the treasure of her mind
I leave her not alone behind!

IV

The sanderlings race down the strand;
The gulls are huddled on the sand

The sun is glaring

At the beach,

And I am counseled

In the breach.

“The Breach” recounts an event that took place on Oak Island during the concluding days of my long infatuation with wildlife photography. I was focusing my attention on the antics of a young sanderling that seemed to be tailing me down the strand. Suddenly, a small songbird, which I believe to have been a chipping sparrow, fell to the sand very near my feet. It was as if the heavens had opened in a way that created a gap between me and what I had only a moment ago considered to be serenity.

Indeed, I was so startled that I experienced a momentary sense of existential fear. But the mere falling of this bird was not what unnerved me, as I have always been given to interpreting a breach in nature as a sign of stirring in the other realm. No, what caused my alarm was the equanimity of the sparrow’s gaze as we appraised each other’s stature. I would characterize the moment as extremely odd; I would even call it stilted because I was as wary of her judgment as she was of mine - And in that regard, she may have held the upper hand.

But I was not concerned with how this situation had come about but with why it had, because a songbird has no business flying in an area dominated by larger omnivores, especially ones that are actively searching for food. Maybe she was just blown here by a strong wind. How could I know? But one thing seemed probable: Had she not fallen where she did, she is likely to have been devoured by the gulls that congregated in the air nearby.

So, I decided to stay with her until her fate was decided, which was gratifying to me because although I have lived much of my life as an inconspicuous bystander, I have always had some qualities that I believe make me worthy of divine consideration. For example, I will regularly take the part of an underdog, which is to say, that mercy has always come easily to me. I hope that does not make me sound conceited, as I recognize that where the active demonstration of goodness is the measure, I have come up short at all times, and on nearly every front.

That conceded, I must admit that I was in no hurry to transport this unfortunate creature to safety since I believe it is possible to contract a serious disease through physical contact with a wild bird. Still, I found myself beginning to do just that. But as I lowered to gather her, she burst to the relative safety of the dunes, freeing me of uncomfortable obligation and allowing me the opportunity to ponder this event from a greater distance.

Now, although I thought of several things that apply to a discussion of mercy, what seemed most applicable to me is how my ability to express mercy is subject to my estimation of the costs I may incur in giving it, and to a lesser degree, my vanity. In that situation, my good intentions were strained by my pathological fear of contracting a disease, and I did not like the thought of how a more forthright person would act more swiftly and with greater conviction than I possessed, as that thought seemed to minimize the virtue I was trying to enact. What that meant to me is that …