Thursday 4 June 2020


I buried a blackbird today,
but I left his beak free.

That's the hardest part to cover, in the end,
even when eyes can't see, or mouth can't speak.

It seems wrong to further silence
what has already been silenced.

He was a tri-coloured bird.
Black everywhere, except the inside of his beak,

his unseeing lids, which were white,
and red for the last entrails, last vestige of pulsing blood.

He was in perfect form, though limp of neck,
falling exactly between the road running right

and the road running left. He was just outside
our driveway, central to my vision.

Waiting for me to pick him up,
and tenderly bring him home.

for George Floyd

(joining in the work of other poets at DVerse Poets' Open Link Night).


Sherry Blue Sky said...

I love that you left his beak free. Life is tough these days, for blackbirds and other beings. So lovely that your tender hands found him and laid him to rest. I love that you dedicated this poem to George Floyd. His voice has not been silenced. The repercussions may just lead us toward a more just existence. That is my hope, at least.

Frank Hubeny said...

I like how you left the beak free.

kate said...

a beautiful tribute, thank you!

indybev said...

A very evocative write.

Jade Li said...

An aching, tender telling.

Kim M. Russell said...

A stunning poem! I particularly love the lines:
‘It seems wrong to further silence
what has already been silenced’
and the use of colour to bring the buried bird to life.

Helen said...

Heartbreaking and lovely rolled into one. George Floyd will never be silenced.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

A heartwrenchingly beautiful tribute! ❤️

Kerfe said...

Sometimes the indirect image is the most poignant and true. (K)

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