Life is too short for boring stories

I had dreamed
from a meadow
on which I stood
with arms spread wide,
wrapped in long, ruffled robes.

Birds kept flying towards me
clinging to the folds of the flowing dress,
ended up in my hair
picked out grains
and disappeared
only to return a few moments later.
I moved gently
so as not to disturb the birds,
but these irritated my movements
in no way.
They came and flew away.
Over and over again.
And the grains
which were well hidden in my robe,
seemed inexhaustible.
Not only did they not go out,
but on the contrary
the more birds came
and enjoyed it
the more plentiful was the fodder.

I gently turned my palms up.
In the middle of the hand
explicitly on the palms of the hands,
landed a sparrow
probably a sparrow lady,
for their plumage was brown and inconspicuous
and she looked at me
with those little brown beady eyes
jerking the head in a specific way.

“If I close my hand now,
can i crush you
like a soft, ripe bunch of grapes,
it shot through my head
and I recoiled
before my own thoughts.
“Never, never in my life
I would do something like that”
screamed it in my head
as if I wanted the thought
destroy by the power of volume alone,
but then I added:
“No, of course I don’t.
But I have the opportunity
just like I have this
to protect this life
that is so much weaker than me.
It’s my fault,
how I use my powers.”

The little lady sparrow was still sitting
on my palm,
like she’s waiting
until the conflict
had laid inside me.

“I will protect”
I spoke to her
and as if it were a start signal
the little bird hopped down my arm
up to my ear
“Protect and heal”
she whispered chirping.
Maybe it really was just a chirp,
but the message was clear.
Then she flew away.

I looked after the sparrow lady
until she was gone from my sight.
Then I looked down
to the grass at my feet.
A little bird sat there
and didn’t move
probably one of many
but something was strange.
I fell to my knees
and stretched out his hands to him
because I still couldn’t see
what it was
that he didn’t move at all.

“Have no fear”,
I whispered to him soothingly
“I just want to help you – and heal,
if it’s necessary.”
But the bird was not afraid.
He sat there very quietly
while my hands got closer
until they touched him.
The soft feathers.
He almost looked like a young bird
who fell out of the nest
and now seemed to have forgotten
how it went that with flying
or even just jumping around.
“Have no fear”,
I repeated quietly
but I noticed
that I mean my words actually addressed to myself
because I feared the discovery.
“What about you?”
so I added.

I picked him up carefully.
The feet and the wings
he had pressed very tightly to the body.
I did not understand,
still not.
Only when I put my fingers
glided over its delicate feathers,
I felt something
which felt very different from the feathers.
A thin, transparent thread
had been wrapped around him.
He was hardly recognizable
but I felt him.
It was the thread who over and over again
around his body had been looped
and thus both wings and feet rendered unusable.
I carefully felt the small body.
Even if I couldn’t see it there
had to be a start somewhere
or be an end of this thread.
Finally, I felt a spur

I carefully gave
between thumb and forefinger.
In fact, I could lift it
and so the thread solve
piece by piece.

Centimeter by centimeter
I unwound from the little bird,
who quietly and patiently put up with it,
until the last piece was away from him.
He stretched his legs
and spread the wings
like to convince me
“Look, I’m safe.”
My worry,
the one who tied him
would have pulled too tight
that the thin thread cut into the flesh
and left painful wounds
turned out to be unfounded.
Radiant as the young day
the bird rose into the air.
How much he seemed to enjoy
that he can fly free again
and could move.

Kommentar verfassen

%d Bloggern gefällt das: