Changing Species
Flying
Flying
Falling
One second you are soaring through vast blue skies and satin clouds
And the next your wings have been snapped like the branch you fell from
Memories are cracked open like nuts and the squirrels feast on things they do not understand
They don't know you
You are of another kind, and although you used to sing the most beautiful songs, your beak has been taped shut
Your tweets have become silenced
And I didn't understand at first
But I see it now
How your skin lost its exotic feathers
How your talons became more like small hands
I see how you force down acorns and glance longingly at the worms
But you don't fly
You don't sing
You follow the pack
You have lost yourself in an ax-ridden tree, bound to fall
The sky seems too far
Your mind too small
You've stopped looking up, to your forgotten home; to me
Twittering along phone pole wires
You feel free
One foot in front of the other
Scrambling for the next acorn
You become focused on trying to fit in with a species that is not your own
Don't you remember how it felt to soar the skies with me?
How it felt when our wings brushed against each other?
How is it you only remember to survive, and not how to live, when you used to do both with me?
I must not feel sad
Your mind is not your own anymore
It's impossible for you to come back and be who you once were
You have changed
You are another mindless squirrel
How silly of me to imagine someone would have the willpower to fly with me forever.