sparrows explode
from the treetops
making a sound that
reminds me too much
of gunfire. I can't help
but think that
there is enough
violence
in the world right now
where people carry
bombs on their backs
and, out of an inarticulatible
anger, drive
into crowded bazaars
hoping to destroy.
And, as the sky grays
and rain becomes a baptism
of grief and acquiescence,
I wonder people can't just live
and let other people live
in peace, unmolested,
why can't
birds be birds who lift
their sleek bodies
into the sky
because rising is a marvel
and should be known--not as a metaphor
for gunfire--
but as the beautiful miracle
called flight.
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