"Everyone In Me Is A Bird"
Everyone in me is a bird.
I didn't say which kind of bird.
I personally never saw myself as the flying type and yet here I am,
migrating every winter and spring in a wild goose chase of restlessness.
Restless;
I toss and turn in the night looking for some semblance of stability
to impose on myself,
to subdue my inner multitudes.
There are just so many birds inside, but none of them can take flight.
They're all tangled up with each other, feathery webs of hollow bones linked together,
woven intricately like a nest within a nest.
Mangled flight patterns could take me to Canada or Columbia, I know not which;
I'm just following the ululations of my flock,
that starling song of resonant harmonies and undertones that slices through the air
like a newly-crowned chick taking its first perilous flight.