The Stone Ledge<\/p>\n
By<\/p>\n
Jennifer Angelina Petro<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The slant of light upon the grass<\/p>\n
Where tattered tapestries of autumn leaves<\/p>\n
Rise and fall, reveals the bones<\/p>\n
Of a long since dead bird.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
How is it I never noticed it before?<\/p>\n
How is it I never stopped to grieve the leaving<\/p>\n
Of this winged being?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Oh, I am busy, I know, but I do<\/p>\n
Almost always look down when I walk,<\/p>\n
So why?\u00a0 Why did I not see?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Perhaps before it died I could have<\/p>\n
Done something to help it live, take<\/p>\n
It to a sanctuary or aviary,<\/p>\n
Perhaps, at very least, I could have given<\/p>\n
It a proper burial.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Now its bones, brittle, air-gone,<\/p>\n
Lie in a little heap, wings fanned out<\/p>\n
Into forever.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
There is no going back.<\/p>\n
There is no back to go back to.<\/p>\n
However, there is a point of no return.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The way ahead is dark, empty<\/p>\n
Of sky and wind, the way ahead<\/p>\n
Is bones revealed in autumn,<\/p>\n
The way ahead is wings spread<\/p>\n
Without sky, without the holy<\/p>\n
Uplifting.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I turn, bend close, go ahead<\/p>\n
And lift the dead bird in my hands,<\/p>\n
Carry it to the stone ledge, retrieve<\/p>\n
A garden shovel, dig, let my nose run,<\/p>\n
Place the skeleton down as gently<\/p>\n
As I possibly can, return the earth,<\/p>\n
Bless the leaving, cover the hope<\/p>\n
Of ever flying again.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n