looking up in st. patrick's park, indiana. 8.3.08
The birds' favorite songs
You do not hear,
For their most flamboyant music takes place
When their wings are stretched
Above the trees
And they are smoking the opium
Of pure freedom.
It is healthy for the prisoner
To have faith
That one day he will again move about
Wherever he wants,
Feel the wondrous grit of life—
Less structured,
Find all wounds, debts stamped canceled,
Paid.
I once asked a bird,
"How is it that you fly in this gravity
Of darkness?"
She responded,
"Love lifts
Me."
-Hafiz, from The Gift, translations by Daniel Ladinsky
