Fly Away

This poem touches my heart on such a personal level. I've met so many amazing little birds who seem to have crossed my path in need of help. It was my pleasure and honor to assist them to their freedom. So many have been tiny little sparrows, still residing in their pink transluscent skin, too young for even feathers. Daily love, warmth, shelter, and feeding as they squeaked and bounced their awkward heads for food, built a place for them in my heart. But, yes that day always comes when they need to be set free -- to be encouraged to take wing and fly freely to live their lives -- just as they would have, had nothing befallen them and separate them from their parents. I love on them as much as is fair, and tend to them painstakingly, trying to mimic nature as much as possible for them. But alas-- the time to let them go (literally and figuratively) inevitably comes. And that is a day brings emotions you could surely guess...

There is warning of that day: They start exercising their wings instinctually. Like little helicopters, they flap harder and harder, bouncing off of any surface like they are skipping a jump rope. They grow stronger. Soon, they are fluttering, flitting about. As a child, I'd always thought the parents taught them to fly. But apparently, God fully equipped them with an innate prompting to fly, and how to prepare for it.

And so, in this poem, Paul Holmes outlines the feelings that course through me on "the big day." Through his words, I see that he has a "knowing" about the relationship between a person and a bird. And so, most comforting is his final line...

Fly Away by Paul Holmes, UK

Fly away, little sparrow,

Fly to the wide blue sky,

Enjoy your new-found freedom,

Of this I won’t deny.

I’m so happy to see your wing

No longer bruised and broken,

So pleased to release you,

Of this I’ve often spoken.

I’ve fed you with my hand,

Cared for all your needs,

Brought you back to health,

Fed you with finest seeds.

Your feathers were so dirty,

At death’s door you did appear

But, with a little kindness

You revived, to my great cheer.

So, now, with a little sadness

I send you back to your friends,

And as I watch you stretch you wings

A shiver down my spine it sends;

I’m happy now that you are free,

Back to where you belong

Perhaps you’ll return to my window-sill

And reward me with your song…

"To Paint the Portrait of a Bird"

"TO PAINT THE PORTRAIT OF A BIRD"

by Jacques Prevert

To paint the portrait of a bird,

Paint first a cage with an open door.

Then paint inside the cage

Something beautiful,

something useful to the bird.

Place the canvas against a tree

In a garden or a forest

And hide behind the tree

Without speaking or moving.

Maybe the bird will arrive quickly

But it could take years.

Don't be discouraged. Wait.

Wait all the years if need be:

the bird's quickness or slowness

will not affect the success of the painting.

When the bird arrives(if it does),

be completely silent and wait

until it enters the cage --

then softly close the door

with the paintbrush.
Erase one by one the bars

And, being careful not to touch

The bird's feathers,

Paint the tree,

choosing the best of its branches

For the bird to perch on.

Paint also the foliage

And the cool breeze

And the rays of the sun;

Paint the sounds of the animals,

The plants, the summer warmth.

Then wait until the bird decides

To sing or not to sing:

If not, it is a bad sign

And a sign the portrait is bad,

But singing is a good sign --

A sign that you can sign.

Very softly, pluck a feather

From the bird and write your name

In a corner of the canvas.