Sometimes children get lost in silence
under the hood of the big bell
we get lost where it is cold and dark
and the escaping bird
breaks its wing against the bell wall
the great rim cracks
a thread of light slips through a mere trace
we're lost our breath
falters in silence a memorized note and
one day it sings of death
as release from an embracing thrall
no more guilty than the rain after that
we will come back
to the loved earth like flies clothed in snow
Untitled (Birds): Joseph Cornell, 1942 (Web Museum of Art)
No comments:
Post a Comment