The Bird In My Chest

There is a bird

Inside my chest.

A white, feathered renter,

always ready to fly away.

It carries lots of messages.

Every time I “read” one,

another appears in its mouth;

some kind of Hydra and the multiplying heads.

For a long time

I thought the messages were encoded,

or, of low voice, like somebody

was talking to me from the deep subsoil.

A shocking realization

was taking place gradually;

the messages were crystal clear and loud.

I was the one who didn’t understand the words or couldn’t hear.

Either I wasn’t trying — being distracted —

or, I was trying too hard,

burying simplicity

under heavy intricate clothing.

Although there are more signals for me to catch,

the bird is neither impatient nor indifferent;

as if it sees the future.

As if it knows I’ll make it eventually.

I feel it has more faith in me than I do.

It’s like it has my destiny enclosed,

visioning my next steps.

As if it is my soul.

***

Anthi Psomiadou — CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 International : Credit must be given to the creator/ Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted/ No derivatives