You're just lying there with
the crown on your head-
the bursting crimson wreath
as you lie on the cold, gray bed.
Your legs up in the air
your eyes are clamped wide open.
Your belly is deflated into nothingness;
there's nothing proud about death.
Perhaps it was fear in those
beads for eyes - or maybe it was
serenity and peace that showed
from them, and told of what you'd lost.
I'll never know what went through your mind
when you fell to your death. All I'll
see is that blankness in your eyes,
and your beak ajar from that last
scream.
--
That bird was below my block, when I found it. I was on the way home on wednesday and had wanted to write about it then, but I wasn't able to upload the image. It's sad to see the bird just lying there in the middle of the walk way, just hoping for it's death to be acknowledged. Perhaps that's the reason why I intentionally rushed back to the bird after reaching the elevator. I guess, I felt that it wasn't right to leave a death just like that. Maybe I felt sorry for the bird, because everyone just passed it and did absolutely nothing; as if it were so insignificant that it didn't deserve a place in the obituaries. In a word, I felt that the bird was robbed.
So I guess, that's what I think of death. I think that it's injustice to the victim.
! dug deep in the sand
