Blackbird Observations

Sitting in my modestly enclosed

Four corners of white soul

I lay still as my fan whistles slow and

My headphones are far from low

Draped over my head-

I’m making a break from the screams

In the other room.

It is here

In this stillness

Where gravity stops for a minute

And I note a small blackbird

On my window sill and

I think,

“Will I ever be as free as that blackbird?”

“Will I ever fly from the tossing whims of every scene?”

“Will I ever escape the winds of unstable family?”

I ponder if the other birds take note when

their brother blackbird sings.

Who even knows if the blackbird embraces

what it means to be free.