Broken Sparrows

A trail of broken sparrows
across a clearing

What small expression
of horror is this

string of soft bodies strewn
like tender remarks

that mean nothing and
in retrospect are fearsome

Heap of fresh broken sparrows
at trail’s end — so fresh

flies haven’t found them
yet

Must be some
rationale for it

Not your fault
for finding it but

as it is no longer
unknown it is possible

you will now carry that contagion
(if contagion was cause) or 

that madness (if madness
instead created that path of

tiny corpses) out of these woods
When you speak of it to others

(and you will for it is too much
to contain with silence)

it will spread and soon
your fellows will be 

a similar heap
of broken sparrows

if they aren’t already
halfway there without your help

Soon you’ll be alone
surrounded by those piles

You’ll wander among them
Pluck small brown plumes from them

Make a cloak of them
Try to fly

Succeed and with regret
Declare yourself Sparrow God

Weep for lost masses even as you
exalt in sunlight soaring

above trees and clearings
Above it all having cobbled together

a divinity from tragic mystery
still unsolved and you say

So shall it be in this 
Paradise Legacy Of 

Heaps Of Broken Sparrows
Who Died So There Might Be Flight

Who Must Have Died 
Strictly For That

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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