Birds – A Poem

He says one word to me.

“Birds.”

I’ve seen him wandering the halls

of my dreams and when I try

to engage him in conversation,

all he says is that one word.

I wonder what the word means to him,

or if it should mean something to me.

There is joy in his eyes when he speaks that word,

and in my dreams, I look to the sky,

wondering if I can fly into the blue

while I’m in this dream state.

There is a knock on my door.

When I open it, he is standing there,

a huge smile upon his face.

“Birds!” he says and motions upward.

I look up and I see that he’s ran a string along the hallway.

Upon that string are pictures of birds,

all kinds of them, hanging from that string

with clothespins, tape and paperclips.

Where he has not been able to find a picture,

the word “Bird” has been written in different colours.

In my third eye,

I look down the string and see that it leads

back farther than I can see.

I wonder if they have woven themselves

through every moment that I have lived through

and, somehow, they have led me back home

to myself to who I was meant to be all along.

“Birds!” He says, pointing at the paper birds.

A breeze begins to fill the hallway

causing the paper to ripple and move

as if the birds are getting ready

to fly.