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The Freak, Soon to Die

 

Written in May, 2016.  Somewhat different meaning now.

 

Have you seen the loveliest bird of all?

Have you seen the white peacock?

Did you know it is blue?
The purest, icy shade of blue.

 

Men have come for it,

To wrest it from its forest glade

In the midst of the mist-covered mountains

In the Northern climes.

 

These men laugh at its song;

They pluck at its feathers;

Its beautiful tail is ruined,

And its eyes do not know how to weep.

 

And it will be taken away

To the great God of the desert,

Caged, like a sacrificial dove...

Caged, like my love.

 

I know nothing of war,

Yet I find myself amidst one.

I love the white peacock

And would reconsecrate its glade.

 

Yet the bird itself attacks me

When I come to help;

It would rather be blue

Than be impolite to its molesters.

 

Its beak is sharp, its toes have claws;

It is a magic bird, could shrug away all foes should it wish.

Yet its gossamer prison binds its mind

And it yearns now only for distraction.

 

Who will help me break the spell?

Unvex this bird of birds?

Without it my tongue, festivals, arts fall to naught.

Without it I shall grow old and blue.

 

Will you grow old and blue too?

Will you stay so polite?

Will you care when you wake up in the desert

And find yourself caged, like a dove?

 

My love must love what I love

Or how can I love her?

Without the precious bird of birds

My life is merely empty words.

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