Birds That Don’t Fly

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Why do certain birds have wings
and do not fly,
and when they do,
they don’t do so very high?

I don’t know.

Why do some animals have mouths
and do not speak,
and when they “do”,
all you get is a tiny, little squeak?

I don’t know.

Why does a woman have a womb
if she does not birth,
if she doesn’t attempt to,
if it’s not attached to her sense of worth?

I don’t know.

All I know, is that some birds do not fly,
because they don’t have to;
they don’t find food in the sky.
Many animals do not talk;
nothing has to be said,
to learn from a hawk. 

And lastly, now firstly, the woman.

Some women do not birth
because it’s not why they are on earth.
It doesn’t come up in their thoughts of romance;
wombman isn’t just child-maker, by any chance.

So, there are several children in the world who are suffering because their mothers are either late, or they were abandoned immediately after birth. That a child has a present mother isn’t even enough proof that they don’t suffer as a result of her horrible parenting approach. Some women gave birth because they were pushed to think that they just had to, and since, deep down, they never wanted to, the end results turned out to be horrible, almost catastrophic.

If you are so concerned about children, if they really mean so much to you, and that’s your motivating factor, why are you pressuring this one woman who doesn’t want to give birth (and not necessarily because she can’t), instead of worrying about the ones that the earth already has, that are dying constantly, due to inadequate care.

There are at least two approaches that people have to seeing a bird that is not flying. They think- well, she’s either in a cage, or she doesn’t know how to. Why don’t we go out of our way to teach her, and if she still doesn’t fly, we throw her in the air anyway, so she can break her leg. Better still, we cage her. Why should a bird just be on her feet, not flapping her wings, not singing, if she’s truly free?

Therefore, sir, ma, to whom this may concern, how can we best support you, so you can aspire to (at least) be sensible in the nearest future?


Hello, Ma!


“Hello, ma.”
“We think of you as a foolish girl.”
“Helloo, ma.”
“Plus, we do not like you very well.”
“Hi, ma.”
“Hello, ma!”
But if we pretend, you’ll never tell.
“Hello, ma.”
Listen to the silent ways we yell.
“Helloo, ma.”
“Have a seat in this fake-love cell.”
“Hi, ma.”
“Hello, ma!”
“And welcome, to Hell.”


How can a yang be a yin?
How can a thing that ought to heal, hurt?
How can a thing that ought to help you walk,
and better still,
give you wings,
keep you in chains,
and make you weak?
How can a thing that ought to give you life
take your breath?
How can a feeling
be the opposite of itself,
when unrequited?
A thing so sweet and tender,
like a newborn baby,
but strong enough
to put you in a chokehold
when you least expect it?

Love, delicate and dangerous.

The Only Constant Thing

Who says the only constant thing is change?
My belly hurts from trying to hold back my laughter,
because even change isn’t always constant.

Sometimes, when you don’t want Change,
when you are sincerely happy with where you are,
and the things you have,
she looks for you and disrupts your house, anyway,
whether or not she has a new one ready.

Many times, when you seek change,

you don’t always get it;
you yearn for it and look for it
but you don’t always find it.

Change closes her eyes when you need her most
and pretends to be legally blind,
and so, even change isn’t constant or stable.
You can’t hold your breath for her,
put all your eggs in her basket,
or put your trust in her.

The only constant thing
is nothing.

The Plot

I should tell you a thing
that happened many centuries ago,
that only I know of.
The stars were going on again
about how great it would be
to replace the moon with the sun.

“Oh, she’s so dull; she’s no fun.
The sun shines brighter;
she’d be so much better for us.”

They all connived to do the replacement
that ended up being very successful.
No one even knew they existed
with the sun shining so brightly;
they hated every minute of having her around.

The grass is greener when you look from afar.
Flowers tend to be extremely beautiful,
until you pluck them to keep and they die.
The sun draws you to her,
she gives light and love and warmth,
like a beautiful, adult siren,
until you draw really close.

The moon decided to return,
and take her place,
as you can see;
your moon may not decide to.