When I hear Them

                                              Every now and then               I would hear the sound of these birds singing with love and compassion.                 I would hear them when sitting under the moonlight.          When I sit alone, crying and weeping, feeling the world is just about to crash.                                     I would hear them miles away.I would hear them, that every time I hear the sound of their voice, I will feel this freedom in my heart.I would call their music, the music of relief. When they hear my sobbing, and they will look and see blood coming out of eyes rather than tears.  When they see blood, they will sing louder, and maybe I will stop.When they see me holding my chest as I felt it was about to break, they will sing beautifully because they know that there is no heartbreak out there that a beautiful sound can not fix. When they see my feet  becoming weak as I try to walk under the moonlight, they will all come together to hold me walk againWhen I decide that I’ll try to drop myself down, they will become my blanket, the bed, so when I land, I’ll be okay. They will risk their life for me. Out of nowhere, I will see this little blackbird, in the dark, barely could see it, trying, learning to fly, then eventually take off.Then they, all these birds, of all kinds will make this line, as I was on the floor, as blood keeps on dripping down my eyes, all broken, afraid to take this step. They stared at me, as they all took off in the same line. They kept on staring me,  singing, cheering me up to take my step.I got up my strength, and got up, standing straight under this moonlight.   Those birds started to sing louder and louder.A different melody, different beat...  I was no longer hearing just “A song” but something special, calling my name, to wake up and for me to seize my moment.I gave a quick smile as the blood of my eyes vanish.I lift my eyes; then I saw them showing me my direction, my way.  These birds know that even if I am lost, they will be with me all the way.I hear them as they whisper, “Even if you forgot how to walk, don’t you worry, we would teach you again.                                                              

This poem is about: 
Me
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Ashjudith

I hope you all enjoyed this piece that I wrote about survival for my school magazine 

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