Archive for July 31, 2014

The magpie

The music was weighing heavily on our shoulders,
the vibration brought most of us to tears,
so strongly were the cellos playing in mineur,
that no one thought of the deceased by now.

The dusty sunlight hardly made it any better,
but then a magpie entered the wide open doors
and flew around over our heads a while.
So light his flight was, such a glider.

He carried all our sadness to fly out again
leaving us smiling through the ceremony,
while he was screaming proudly from the roof top
as his task with us was done.



Outside our world of bed and softness
another world exists that we don’t care for now,
for now we’re good and have the curtains closed,
we wish for shutters to keep out the sound
of traffic too. The papers probably
are full of war’s destruction. We think
we have to solve it in our minds, but don’t know
how. For now we seem to be quite safe, just
you and me, and silence hiding in the corner.
Already something’s falling on the mat downstairs,
but we ignore. Soon phones will ring.
Let’s close our eyes, pretend that all is well.
A magpie laughs above our heads, and probably is shitting.

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