Pact

If born a bird

I’d flip and flit

and ride the wind

down to water

sun and light, well it’s the fodder

we frolic in and when it’s done

go home and sleep wake up and start another one.

–

And now I’m nine

that show and tell.

I’m heading home

this desperate spell.

I trade it all, I dig the well.

Well freedom’s free when wandering,

but I don’t care I’ve had enough of floundering.

–

And now I’m me

you tell me that

I’m not the sum

of all my past.

Consumed with finding missing mass

I scrape my mind and find a voice,

The answer to the past sub now is choice.

–

If I was a bird

I’d flip and flit

and chart the winds,

distinct contour,

sun and light, well I won’t falter

I frolic in and then decide

to sleep, wake up and head towards my workward ride.