The Canary

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My scarf is stained with the canary’s blood.

Its wings flutter directly above.

A deafening song about melancholy.

I begin to run.

My heart tangles, the muscles contract,

I am breathless with pain.

I’m angry at myself.

My eyes, so pathetically shallow, limited, one-dimensional

Can only see half of the world.

I hate myself because

I have forgotten to turn around.

I have remained

Frozen

On the ground.

.

The beautiful canary bird

Its deranged joy dancing off its open cage

A door it sees.

The silence around, surrounds,

Is a deep sin.

Watching its departure

The shining feathers, shine and shine

Flashing a deafening song of

Freedom.

.

The beautiful canary bird will not return.

Its master’s cold hands, the careless release

A life of imprisonment and its

Blind surrender to the greedy eagle’s claw.

Falling, falling towards

The point where light meets darkness

A tear in its eyes

Falling, falling a bloody fall

Slowly, and slowly

It falls.

.

By Kim T. (translated from a Chinese poem I’ve written earlier today)

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2 comments

  1. Carol Ann Hoel · February 23, 2011

    How tragic the mood of this poem. The canary, innocently seeks freedom, which becomes a snare; while the master languishes in regret. The master was deceived, and the canary was doomed. My heart hurts reading this. I say get another canary. God gives second chances. 🙂

  2. slpmartin · February 22, 2011

    Such sadness in these lines to have finally gained freedom and the to fall prey to the coldness of the real world.

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