Stanzas for the Motherbird
by
Debra Rose
(Age: 23)
copyright 06-18-2008
Age Rating: 13 to 127
I Motherbird, motherbird
where does your life go?
To chemo trails
and hospital rails
all standing in a row.
II I drew from the glass the reflection
of my pain
and it was a beast in my belly;
twisting hands and fingers that threatened
to make me a
9 month long regret.
And maybe I'd comply
if it didn't take copulation with
the opposite sex.
III And the Monster of Decay roared.
The bird cringed and limped
wings akimbo and head tucked.
It sang a pretty song
but if you listened close enough
you could hear the suffering the tune hid.
IV We spread hands.
Lily's in the rain,
cups gathering the mist in the desert.
Affection taken from drops
splattering on cheeks
and we knew that day--
even God cried for us.
V . . . hidden ails
and vomit pails,
all standing in a row . . .
VI Meaning hangs like insignificant
innuendo lost in foreign tongues.
She sighs over the phone.
"I'm just tired,"
she says.
But I hear the truth.
She's not waving.
She's drowning.
Birds aren't meant to swim.
VII Baby bird kisses the wall--
Not intentionally,
because who does that?
Her world went black.
Gravity tilted and her lips met paint
her knees greeted the floor,
and she cried
because even her own wings betrayed her.
VIII I'm glad when she doesn't answer.
The hospital phone rings
and there's no reply.
She's in treatment
and it's for the best.
Still I wait.
Still it rings.
Still no answer.
IX But Motherbird, motherbird,
where will your chicks go?
If you are gone
your bird's of songs
will all turn into crows.
Blackbirds standing in a row.
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Another great piece of writing. So glad you are here writing again. The words, phrases, metaphors, images, ssssssssssoooooooooooooooooo
vivid. Your talent amazes me as well as your character.
I'm sure there's more here than meets the others' eyes, but I like half-covered mysteries.
I can write my own version between the lines.
Thanks for supporting me.
Debra, This poem touched me deeply. I have been in this place, and how it hurts! You have so richly expressed, with your talent for words, the emotions one feels at such a difficult time. I especially like
"But if you listen close enough
You can hear the suffering the tune hid."
Thanks for this...............June
A Mother bird as her natural nurturing character implies would do anything to spare her young flock from the pain of witnessing her struggle while she fights, to remain. This story is so personal it's difficult to comment on. You didn't miss a thing in the telling.
I just returned from a trip where I spent five days in an I.C.U. room with a parent. I had read this poem when it was in the workshop and thought of it several times while I sat there waiting for my miracle to arrive and allow me more time with my Dad. I am over twice your age so it isn't unusual for me to be in this seat.
Heartfelt blessings sent to all those who see themselves in this waiting room whatever their age, but "especially sent" for those that are just getting their wings as...any Mother bird will remind you, love is your cushion during the tough moments. It surrounds and protects in our place, when needed, as we battle with worldly events.
We give them birth and watch them grow. We are saddened by their misfortunes and pains, but you can not keep them from life. There are sad times and good times, but without one, there could be no other. Still we cry when they cry, laugh when they laugh and smile when we see them sleeping. Great write to make one ponder....I've missed you! Anthony
Welcome !
