The other bird am I. I belong to nobody,
I don’t wake up and depart just to fetch food,
and then get back to sleep and wake up anew.

It’s a disgrace for me to falter and stall in the air.
I insist on trying that trembling difficult curve,
to glide low, to set higher then to palpitate.
When I fall I learn my wings how to support me,
how to overpass any monotony and the vertigo.
Even hungry, I’m healthy with what I learn;
What matters is the flight, higher or deeper.

The other bird am I; they have problem to believe me
when I tell ‘the stomach sticks you drowsy on ground’.

Yet, who believed Leonardo da Vinci that would fly?
Or the paralyzed physicist who flies with his eyelashes? *
Have I my wingy Doultsinea to believe in me and then
I can borrow the imagination of heaven for my vision.

Believe and fly: the wings that dare are the winners.
And do warble: is the divine way for you to breathe.



© JosephJosephides

Joseph S. Josephides

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-other-bird/