FINCH

I’ll take a quiet life, somewhere indifferent; I freeze my hands in the river and cry sweet tears. My fields of lavender dreams and dark forest of mares. I’ll hide in the absurd, my snow in summer, and puppeteer girls.

I’ve danced around the topic since I was a little girl, they’d tell my mum “you’re being too soft on her” when I’d cry over wings that wouldn’t work. Gazing into the sky, much older now. Kneeling in the dirt, I know you’re looking for me, but, I can’t wait here much longer, it hurts.

I wander through those woods now, the woods that saw me before death, that blew blossoms in my hair and icy ribbons to twirl in air. They whisper me secrets and rhyme me riddles, glossy eyes tell them, it’s okay, I’ll find my way back today.

Crimson hands put my dress on and tuck petals in my pockets; I walk out into the river again, currents pull me apart and push me back together. Trees sway with me, rustling frost, one finch sits on the shore, its head looking from left to right.

He sees me young, giggling, blonde, and then he promises me flight.

I cry now, the overwhelming feeling drowning slow, I call out, I’ll be okay mama! Remember the stairs? I’ll be able to fly now!

I start to float up and up, twirling in gold leafed clouds, feeling ice on my skin, now she weeps.

One finch flies with me, he shows me how to wander, how to find peace.

He sings me a lullaby as I drift to sleep, I never was built to keep.