The lament of a bird

Posted by Zave | Posted in , , , , , , , | Posted on 18:30

Chirp! Chirp!
No one did heed,
She had to fend alone,
The excruciating pain,
At the loss of her life,
Who had been part,
Of everything they did.

What remains are,
Just countless engrams.

Of the tireless flights,
In the sunny morn,
Or the arduous labour,
To dig a wiggler,
Out of a flinty lawn.

Of the time they spent,
To impress their mate,
And then the nights,
Frigid or snugly,
In their pensile nest.

Of the rhapsodic songs,
Sung in aesthetic spring,
Or when after a playful day,
He pecked off the dirt,
From her inutile wings.

Now what remains is she,
Staring at the alien sky,
Mercilessly asking her to fly,
But her wings won't flutter,
Even if she did try.

The air gets even heavier,
With her mournful songs,
Once filled with love,
Now they just complain,
Against the worldly wrongs.

She rubs against the deceased,
Wishing he be in a dreamless slumber,
Hoping he would rise and skitter across,
The land on which he rests cold,
And soon perform acts of a tumbler.

She looks up to the blue sky,
Might be trying to implore,
Contemplating why she is alive,
When her only love lifeless ahead,
When she has none to live by anymore?

The heavens might have looked,
And could not even shed a tear,
But the wicked beast stares at her,
And he would fancy his chances,
Knowing that lunch could be too near.

Sneaking in the shadows,
The merciless killer crawls,
Closing on its hapless prey,
But she is too lost in grief,
To watch the death that befalls.

He pounces on her,
Eyes full of greed and hunger,
She stares at the roughshod brute,
In anger, disgust and disbelief,
"No, he wouldn't die again, no further!"

She couldn't stop ugly death,
But now saving him was in her hand,
And fate could not be victorious,
She won't let him depart again,
Like elusion of a fistful of sand.

Spanning her piddling wings,
As far she could let it go,
She covers her love's corpse,
As the claws pierce her plumed skin,
Death approaching nice and slow.

She squalls in agony again,
Regretting her move no more,
Feeling the harsh brutality of death,
Reliving what her soul had felt,
Life's cruel and unforgiving roar.

He looks up in pride and honour,
Letting out a boastful meow,
And as he wricked her neck out of shape,
He confronts a peaceful smile,
"Its always good to be back with you"!

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