a lesson from birds

Friday, December 21, 2012

chirp and sputter
windblown heather
'cross the sky
held in lock
ought to be."
(c) bree holloway 2012

Those birds are really onto something. All that flying high above the ground, leaving cares to fend for themselves. They live out their daly lives simply, and aren't afraid to crow when something must be said. Their feathers may be dull or harlequin, beaks tapered or zaftig, eyes beady or protuberant, but they all have the same principles. And when the air here on earth gets too stuffy to manage, off they go into the wild blue yonder, plumage a-whirl and songs of an unspoken language freed from captivation in their tongues. Up, up, up, to a place perhaps closer in a geographical sense, or perhaps father away from our Creator. It doesn't matter. The air is different up there, and one can feel closer to God.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could do so as well? If we could remember that there is One there, waiting for us when the troubles of this earth become suffocating and insupportable, arms open wide for our weeping little bodies, hands yearning to heal our petty wounds? A God who is utterly flawless, who died for our numberless flaws. My numberless flaws.

It's outrageous. And that's the best part about it.

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