Wednesday, August 17, 2011

the heart is a captive bird...Drawing a Day 2011... August 17

This is the bird that I hold in my hands.  It flutters on my fingers, whispering secrets in a language that I do not yet know.
I move through the space, my bladder full.  I am searching for the toilet and I can’t find.  Often the walls are pulled and shifted by some rhythm that I cannot seem to get the hang of.  My feet betray their inability to dance to the dictates of the masses.  I tuck them under my body, like a duck with her broodlings, hoping no one will notice.  Their eyes, their senses are fixated on something else and my asynchronicity is hidden for now.
I push the bird into my chest, into the cage of my ribs.  I place the bird between my lungs and puff out the cage giving the bird room.  She perches on the tubing in the cavity and begins to sing.  Her song is loud and fierce and can be heard, in certain quiet rooms, from the outside of my body.  I do not quiet the bird, but instead encourage her to sing louder.

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