A Red Bird


A red bird landed on the windowsill
Against the snowy roof
One afternoon as I lay in bed,
Deciding whether or not to live.
I knew the world was sick;
I saw the world as a helpless, dying thing-
So why should I live, I thought, if there is no hope?
But all the reasons I was lying there suddenly were nothing
Compared to what had come alive
Beyond the glass,
Where never before had a being appeared
To take my poor stare from its poverty,
And lead it to the plentiful light.
I had thought our plight more difficult than bleeding wings,
I had thought my strength
Greater than the strength of birds...
Until the afternoon when I heard a little, wounded being
Sing her carol of hope.
And she held me through the night
With her words.

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