Blackbird

Blackbird sits in the window,
bright eyes staring.
What does he want
and why is he here?
He stares through the glass,
orange beak twitching
and black feathers ruffled.

Are you from the river or
are you from a stream?
Do you live in the forest,
nest hidden up high?
How did you find me?
And how did you know
I was waiting for you?

Blackbird sings in the window,
healing my soul
with its lullaby.
Kind old blackbird,
can't you teach me
how to fly away?

Are you like me?
Do you dream of escaping
to a brave new world?
Is that why you
flew all this way?

Blackbird flies though the window,
wings unfurled and
claws outstretched.
He lands on my finger
and looks in my eyes,
asking me to fly away.
But I can't fly;
my wings have vanished.

I try my hardest to leave
with him. I climb through to
the ledge and jump,
my wings flapping hard.
But my wings fail, and turn
back into arms.
What traitorous arms.

Blackbird waits by the window,
waiting for my return.
But the days turn into weeks
and my stay at the hospital
grows long.
So finally, after waiting so long,
the blackbird flies from the window.