I woke up this morning, my chest feeling heavy. It’s funny. I have carried this weight around for a while and though I have gotten quite used to it, sometimes I feel the weight as if it were new. As if, it were pressing down upon me to remind me in case I ever forget.
Let’s call this weight a bird. A big beautiful bird. A bird who meets other birds, squabbles with other birds, falls in love with other birds but you know, never quite sees me as a bird. I suppose I am this bird’s nest. Last night, this bird felt its own weight and seemed to be asking me why would I put up with this weight? Why don’t I shoo it away?
Why don’t I shoo this bird away?
I suppose it's because I am this bird’s nest. Where will it go if I shooed it away?
It's weird how this started as a poem and then just wouldn't go anywhere I liked it to go. So I guess that's why it stays here instead of Tiny dancer. On an aside, I wonder if it's time to change the name of my poetry blog. Something like.. "Tiny Dances No More" or "Tiny Would Rather Sing" or "Tiny Would Like the World to Believe She Is Tiny Even Though She Is Not". I guess the last one is too long. Oh well.
I suppose it's strange to have a randomly personal post come up in the middle. Not that I haven't posted my rants or allowed glimpses into my life in a more direct fashion, before. I haven't done it in a while.
Its a good thing you cut out the last line.. or else I might have.. :) or maybe it doesn't sound as obscure to me because I can relate to every word.. how do you write this beautifully? This deserves to be on Tiny Dancer on its own right..
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