* * *
Be careful with this
hurt creature
that you hold:
a little bird,
barely breathing but
gently panting,
after you quieted her heartbeat
in your hands
The softest of flutters
ruffles the feathers
of her breast as
it rises and falls
on another short journey up
to the sky and back down
This tiny cavity contains
a hope to ascend again
and a belief
that it will be better
You may be calloused,
but don’t be rough
when you clutch her close
Be mindful not to crush her
She doesn’t know she
can’t try to fly
and that she is falling further
Carry her not because
her lightness is easy to bear
but because she is substantial
When all becomes still,
be honored that you held her
then cover her,
but allow sunlight
to slip through the spaces
between your fingers
She wants God
able to find her
And she will find heaven
while in your hands
* * *
Sydney J. Shipp writes poetry to convey the deep, universal feelings inspired by her observations of self, nature and human interactions. Recently influenced by the diagnosis of a neurological disease and her recovery from alcoholism, poetry has become not only a method of sharing, but one of healing and transcendence. As an emerging writer, her publishing credits are limited to several Medium.com publications. When she isn’t writing, she spends time with family and friends, participates in service-related activity that carries the message of recovery from addiction, and cares for any stray, lonely, or injured animal that crosses her path. She lives in the pines of deep East Texas.
