ORNITHOLOGY

it is so hard to be earth bound
when yr wings are aching to challenge the high-tide
of a revolutionary wind.
so hard to remain terrestrial when the skin remembers
being bird. and the heart soars back and forth in its
ribbed cage...
the song of the crow gives rebirth to a loneliness that
manifests itself in the flight-time of the life-time.
it is so hard to be earthbound
wings dragging beside u on the ground
u cld lift them if folks wld just get off of 'em.
they kno y're dependable so they lean on u
hopin to be included on yr next flight.
and not being able to take off gives u the woes
occasionally u claw at what loves u the most
and everything u sing after that is beyond even the blues.

so much is lost when the lost claim to be the only thing
happenin. they eat, sleep, and excrete in fear of being genetically
assassinated. the unspurpassed splendor of our united plummage makes
them plot to slaughter the bird in us. their media tells us to hate the sky.
they make us think that stagnation is better than flight of any kind,
motion of any sort. they trick us into turning in our wings. and they burn

the wings that are not turned in.

but sometimes, the way we can feel about each otha is totally
regenerating to the most scorched wings.

the right look, an opening smile that never closes,
sometimes, the way we dare to feel about each otha, is
all the flight-times of the most magnificent birds in all
the worlds where luv and freedom are a way of being.
sometimes, we do that to each otha.

wanna fly?

Copyright, 1988 Laini Mataka
First Published in Never As Strangers
Anthologized in In Search of Color Everywhere: A Collection of African-American Poetry

Be Well. Be Love(d).

A.