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.