JOAN MCNAMEE
  • Home
  • PROSE POEMS
    • For Helen
    • The Watchers
    • When I come back I want to be a bird
    • When I saw her again
    • Put your gun down, put your hands up, and come out slowly
    • The Puzzle’s the Thing to Do
    • So Sad
  • News and Views
    • Is it too late already?
    • Short Stories

When I come back I want to be a bird

When I come back I want to be a bird, any kind will do, any colour too.
But fancy would be nice.
Above it all, but of it all, just me, the air, that’s all it takes.
My ups and downs and in betweens, different but the same, anywhere I go is home
But still there is a code, to lead us all together.
I know it well, it speaks of living swell, but not alone.
 
It says fear not, not meant to make it on our own,
  Together makes us better, safer, flocks know the best for all, they lead and love us best
Feel free to poop, wherever you may go.
Below the trees, down there, our temporary homes, along a branch
We see our offspring up and off and out and on their own they be.
Good job!
New messengers set free.
 
They look confused below, alone, the ones who cannot fly, and try to make it on their own.
Their chosen path, their own way round, but wings they’ll never have.
Too fast they go to learn, or see, and never know, that everywhere is home.
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  • Home
  • PROSE POEMS
    • For Helen
    • The Watchers
    • When I come back I want to be a bird
    • When I saw her again
    • Put your gun down, put your hands up, and come out slowly
    • The Puzzle’s the Thing to Do
    • So Sad
  • News and Views
    • Is it too late already?
    • Short Stories