This is my first poem that I've done and posted along with my own sketch.
Birds
They play in the sand, soft and small,
little wings stirring dust as it falls,
like whispers of wind in the heat of the day,
like secrets the sunlight won’t carry away.
They perch on a branch, then vanish, then glide,
a flicker of feathers, a turn in the sky,
they hop through the grass with a careless delight,
then splash in the water, all silver and light.
I sit where I am, quiet and still,
watching them wander wherever they will,
their colours like paint brushed loose in the air,
so vivid, so fleeting, so painfully fair.
I ask what they’re called, each one that I see,
as if giving them names might untangle me,
but names don’t give wings, and names don’t set free,
they stay what they are, and I stay as me.
And God, how it aches, this wanting inside,
to slip from my skin, to loosen, to glide,
to follow their flight where the sky opens wide,
instead of just watching them drift and divide.
I don’t want to wonder, or whisper, or wait,
pressed to the ground by some invisible weight,
I want to be weightless, unbound, untied,
not here on the earth… but up there, in the sky.
Let me be reckless, let me be wild,
not just the watcher, but something untamed,
because loving their freedom has left me undone…
I don’t want to watch them.
I want to become one.











