THE SPARROW

By Joe Lennon-Phillips

I

Sparrow,

a darling of old world,

and black wings.

A treasure of mongrels,

a fool’s hope to freedom,

and certainly one that should amaze all and me.

Sparrow,

bathe in the snow of long forgotten winters,

keep the parasitic pests at bay,

and when the green comes in the somber spring mornings of may,

weep to yourself, and mourn a silent hero, whose name has been yours, and only yours.

Be the guardian of generation, borne out of generation,

and when the world around you, as it is known by its peoples, crumbles to dust,

continue your perpetual duty, to serve, and be never be served.

Be not so loosely held in abeyance,

by those who come after you,

but stand watchfully as a symbol of all that the world has ever been, or wanted to be.

No heart has ever bled as yours has bled,

no rippling cackle has ever sparked more laughter as yours has done,

no eyes have ever rose from the dark night like a fire dance as yours have,

and no plumage has ever stopped the beating hearts of all who have held silent beauty in their hearts as yours as.

I observe more than I have ever observed when taking long glances over you,

and your eyes seldom meet mine as I would like them to.

They sparkle a haze of blue ocean,

and at their center is a cloud white that sings, in crying for the death of the night sky for the morn. I look at you and know only longing,

I dream of you, and look upon you,

and can only forlorn the very kiss of your eyes upon my face.

I long for your generations of understanding,

your worldly adversaries, your wisdom,

and for a moment when your easy glance falls upon me so chancely,

I own all which escapes me, and can feel the touch of your tender embrace, without truly feeling your arms encompassing me like I want them too.

From miles away I can feel your warmth,

I can feel your orange hues radiating like a summer Sunday in the early morning and know it’s feeling and smell like I know no other,

and have known no other,

for in that very moment I am again only a child playing in grass so contently.

II

There was a secret that was never told,

of all that a sparrow’s heart should hold,

and I had wanted to know, for I was young, and brash, and bold.

Tomorrow was a dismal day,

for yesterday came and went away,

today was nothing, of which to be proud,

just a reminder of death, a funeral shroud.

But here are years, so precious to me,

and here I am, a fallen hero to be.

I, have lost perception of time,

and simply obsess over meter and rhyme,

and tear at first the sight of fall

but I have loved, and that is all.

All these wondrous signs of life,

have only ever been my strife,

for I was young, but born too old,

to match the sparrow’s gray and gold,

and she shall live on, with an undying prayer,

to not give love, but lend her colors fair.

She has given me love, but must not love,

I have loved her with more love than I can give,

but I shall die, and she shall live.

And when the ghastly cymbals crash,

and earth shall burn to dust and ash,

she will stand on.

A Shadow From But A Few Months Ago

By Lindsay Massarsky

I am your shadow.

I am always by your side, following close by.

Your movements are accepted, I do not act without you.

Your speech is accepted, my mouth only moves when you do.

I am stuck to your soles, dragging myself as a child clings to his parents ankles, begging for a

toy sailboat.

When there are four walls reaching into the sky blocking the sun from your view and enclosing

you on each side, I am still there. watching; comforting.

Only if the sun shifts can I move, but then again I am still only succumbing to the sun’s invisible

rays that give us all life.

You can take away my sunlight, but only you can give me life.

I am not myself.

I have your body, your name, your thoughts, your life.

Sometimes, I can see somebody pull me up off the dirty ground where I’ve dug my grave and

link arms with me as I struggle to walk, and see me as more than a dark patch of empty space

where no light shines.

But this is a lie.

I am just a side effect. I have no purpose.

No one sees. No one cares.

No one would notice if I was gone.

~~~

This was how I felt. I remember but I cannot recognize.

Goodbye old friend:

Sometimes it was nice, sometimes I wish to return.

It was hard but so easy.

Now, I am still learning to crawl, but I am smiling with rosy, chubby cheeks.