Like a Bird

I struggled to keep a small bird alive.

The bird, tight beaked, was unwilling.

Now my mother lies curled,

The same as a bird,

Tired of this thing we call living.

If we let her go now she can open her wings,

the windows are open, flung wide.

I defend her souls right

To escape in the night

And fly into sweet oblivion.





One thought on “Like a Bird

  1. Your mother and you (okay especially you) are in my thoughts and prayers ..always. It’s never easy to let go of a mother, even when we’re sure it’s for the best. You may recall a few years back, I was the one my mother asked if she was going to recover or really die. Then she asked me if it was okay for her to go, would I be alright. Been asked that question too many times, brother. So, you are definitely in my thoughts and prayers.


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