Dear Black Bird
Streaks making up your black sharp shape
are filled with darker paint from my throbbing, aching heart.
A tight shut beak making up your direction
draws from the language I could never tweet.
Fanned out brush strokes
echo the thoughts of darker paint from a destination I could never fly to.
Parallel dots of paint making up your feet
demonstrate the insecurity and untrusting faith I had with my wings.
A short curved out end making up your tail feathers
symbolize the support my flock provided for me.
The intimacy you and the comfortable ground share
illustrate the winter of my migration.
The black bird that you are makes up the person I will never again be.