when i was a little child, i once found a bird lying on the ground.
it would not ever fly again.
i held the bird up in my hands, i shed my tears over the lovely song that
not longer could be heard.
never learn to fly.
with dirty hands i dug a hole and gently laid the bird to rest in soil:
a wound in the tear stained mud.
my tears wore rain as i revealed the secrets of a tree.
a cross of bark to speak through wooden grains:
"never learn to fly"
i sang a song which i remembered my grandma used to sing
for me, when i was sick and laid in bed.
then i cursed that day for showing me my own mortality
for then i knew that all that lives turns cold. cold and dead.
and now time has passed by beneath my wings.
that was then i'm older now, but still i can't forget that rainy day.
i raged against the ending times, though some day soon my son will maybe
find the tree i cleansed of skin.
no chain-sling will ever climb its rotten limbs.
and when the time has come for me to die, i want to lie beside that bird.
never learn to fly.
when i was a little child, i once found myself dying on the ground
and now i'll never ... fly...
